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I don't think there is such a thing as a bad stylist. However,
some of them just don't get me. They almost never do what I ask them
to do. It may be that "just a trim" is not in their vocabulary.
Either that or they think they are doing me a favor by ignoring my
request.
I can sense their thoughts as I walk in their door and they get a
look at my unruly locks: "Jumpin' Jimminy! I have to fix that!"
They ask me how I want it cut... because they have to. Then it's
as if they are on a mercy mission to remedy whatever hair
malfunctions they perceive I have. When they're done, it looks
nothing like what I asked for.
There have been many times that I've walked out of a hair salon
and immediately headed home to wash what hair I had left.
Then I would bully it into some semblance of "my world" order.
Just because some popular celebrity insists on walking around
with a sheepdog on her head, that does not mean everyone wants to
look like that.
Sheepdogs do not fit my personality nor flatter my face.
Besides, in my opinion, sheepdogs are not meant to be seen on
one's head.
You have to watch what you say to a stylist as well. They can get
bored with the same thing every day and decide to experiment with
your hair. They need only the slightest provocation.
I have very straight hair on the front and sides of my head and
naturally curly hair in the back. It's like my head couldn't decide
which look to go with. I made the mistake of mentioning this to a
stylist and then had the audacity to ask whether she thought I
should get a body wave to even it out.
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"Oh no, no, no!" she said as if I were a dog that had just missed
the potty paper. "Your hair is plenty curly."
Then she went about proving her point, using enough gel, mousse
and hairspray to sink a battleship. When she was done, my head
looked like a cross between Old Ironsides and a poodle.
On the other hand, I could've taken a direct hit from a nuclear
warhead and it merely would've bounced off my head. But let's be
honest, I hope that particular benefit never comes in handy.
I meant to get home to my shower before anyone saw me.
Unfortunately, my husband was home when I arrived.
You know that look one gets when confronted by an unrecognizable
object: like a bug in one's soup? That's the look he had on his
face... for a split second.
My husband is a veteran husband and is well-versed in the art of
being a good one. That look was quickly replaced by one that
transmitted the correct vibes I would expect to see if I actually
wanted to look like a member of the Jackson Five.
I laughed and told him to relax. At the risk of clogging my
shower drain with massive amounts of hair products, I was going to
take a shower. He looked relieved.
When I emerged, I was simply me with shorter hair. It would be a
while before I tried a new stylist.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
