Well - let me clarify that a little, as hate may be a little strong. Although, I do actually detest going to the salon. More importantly, I hate myself and what I become.
There is nowhere else I would let someone boss me about and dictate to me what they think about my appearance. There is nobody else I would be willing to sit and chat inanely to about partying, TV shows and general meaningless tittle-tattle (willing is perhaps the wrong word when I am held hostage by scissors). There is nowhere else I would sit and wait more than half an hour for my appointment without complaint. Or feel guilty for using the bathroom in the back, even when heavily pregnant. Or feel compelled to tip, even when I don't feel they've done a good job. I used to enjoy the pampering of having my hair washed, and reading the trashy magazines they have, but even that doesn't do it for me anymore.
And now, because I have a very little baby again and don't want to lug her to the salon, I've gone and done something even worse. (Can I first say, it's the not the person, it's the situation.) One of the women from my exercise class cuts hair in people's homes, so I booked her for 9.30am on Friday. I somehow thought thatg things would be different. How wrong was I!
She was lovely. But - I had to wait for my appointment with her, too. She did text to say she would be late, as she was dropping her baby with her mother, but it was still late - and of course I didn't complain. In fact I probably apologised - I was apologetic throughout the whole encounter. I apologised that the hot water took a long time to run throug;, that my kitchen chairs weren't clean; that I preferred a low maintenance hairstyle since I have 3 kids and need to be out of the house by 8.15am.
The worst thing was that I didn't get the haircut I wanted, and I had only myself to blame. I wanted it cut back into a long bob, so it doesn't hang heavy on my neck and annoy me. I had in my head all morning that this was going to happen. But when she asked me what I wanted doing, some part of me suddenly worried that it would be a bit cheeky to ask her to do a restyle and that she might have just expected to be doing a trim. So I mentioned that I had a long bob previously, and wanted to go back to that, but what did she think?
"Layers", she opined. "With your thick hair."
Now get this, folks, I have had it with layers. My hair is thick and wavy, yes, but put layers in and without the aid of 30 minutes concentrated blow-drying and straightening, I look like something the cat drags in. To look the best that I can, I need that long bob, with hair all the same length. I normally kowtow to hairdressers. But not to this one.
"Not layers, thanks. I need something low-maintenance, I'm afraid. Just take a couple of inches off," said I.
JUST TAKE A COUPLE OF INCHES OFF?!!! WHAT ABOUT MY LONG BOB?!?!?
I HATE what I turn into in the hairdresser's presence. A scaredy-cat, quite frankly. Someone afraid to voice my own opinions and ask for exactly what I want, although I am paying money for it. I didn't even take up her offer to blow dry the cut. I didn't complain when I went up to the mirror and saw that it was still far too long for my liking. I wasn't truthful with the hairdresser, or myself. And I really don't like that aspect of myself.
I always tell myself that next time, I will specify exactly what I want. I will not chatter incessantly about nothing to hide the fact that I am scared. I will not pretend to be someone I am not. I will behave with the hairdresser the same way I deal with supermarket staff, the bank, teachers - confident and assured. I will not end up driving to the store and buying hair dye to make up to myself that the cut doesn't look great, so I'll put on a colour so it looks a bit more passable.
Those who know me well are fully aware that I don't place too much importance on appearance - it's often style over function with me. But at the same time, I do strive to make the best of what God gave me, even if it's just a touch of lip gloss or an okay haircut. If I'm not happy with the way the clothes I buy look on my body, I return them. If I don't like a perfume, I won't use it. But haircuts? I'll just accept what the hairdresser gives me. Without complaint. And probably with an apology thrown in :-)
I HATE having my hair cut!!!