Hair Apparent

cousin itt

I really need a haircut. It’s becoming ridiculous.  This morning, when I was putting my jeans on, my pony tail got caught in the waistband.  And my hair keeps getting involved when I try to eat soup, it just sort of drapes itself into the bowl.  Plus it’s the wrong colour.  I’m supposed to be blonde, but my hair seems to ignore this fact.  Now the wrong-coloured roots have grown past my shoulders.  The wrong colour has taken over.  I try to tell people it’s ‘ombre’ or ‘balayage’, but really it’s the ‘avoiding salon’ effect.

You might think it sounds glamorous, but it’s not.  It was all very well when I was pregnant.  Double-pregnancy hormones made my hair all glossy and full of body (I was full of body everywhere, it would seem).  And, what’s more, I had a legitimate reason for not getting my hair done.  I was far too pregnant.  But once the twins were born, all my pregnancy hair fell out and gathered in tumbleweeds about the house.  My look was no longer “Pregnant Gisele Bundchen On Her Day Off” rather “Drab But Pious Homeschool Mother Sews Aprons For Her Sister Wives”.

I know I would feel better if my hair were shorter and back to its proper colour.  I know all I have to do is work out a time and pick up a phone and make an appointment and turn up, it’s just that…

Hairdressers make me nervous.   There.  I said it.

Most of the time I’m a confident, articulate person and a great conversationalist.  But something about a room full of blow dryers and the smell of Moisture-Lock Colour-Hold Super Salon Treatment Spray sends me spinning all the way back to Grade Five.   My tongue gets all thick.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.  

And I already felt like an odd and awkward sort of person when I went to the hairdressers before I had six children and decided to homeschool them.  Now I feel like a total freak.

I’m intimidated by the amount of power the hairdresser has over me.  A hairdresser has the ability to affect how you feel about yourself when you look in the mirror for the next six weeks (or, in my case, two years).  Just how much bleach is she putting in that mix?  What does she mean ‘caramel highlights’?  What if she interprets my request for ‘layered cut’ as ‘Warwick-Capper-Mullet’?

I tried to tell my friend M about my problem a couple of days ago, when she told me I needed a hair cut.

“Is it too expensive?”

“No.” (well, it is expensive, but that’s not the reason)

“Do you need babysitting?”

“No.” (except that I do, but that’s not the reason)

“Do you just want to keep your hair the way that it is?”

“No.” (it’s driving me crazy)

“Well, what’s the problem?  What?  What?  I can’t hear you.  Did you just say you’re frightened of the hairdresser?

Later that day, I got a text from Lovely M.  It was a link to a groupon for 75% off colour and cut at a salon not too far away.  M offered to come with me and I was struck with a lovely vision of the two of us side-by-side with our hair in rollers and our heads underneath those bonnet hair-dryers, discussing that new band from England and whether we preferred Paul or Ringo.  But after a few more texts, it dawned on me that M was not offering to get her hair done at the same time as me: she’d just been to the hairdressers, it’s what had sparked the conversation.  M was offering to come along to hold my hand (her words).

It was at this point I realised I might have a problem.

“I can do this”  I muttered to myself as I clicked my way through the sign-in process and keyed in my credit card details, “I am a GROWN UP.”  And, ignoring the bland stares of the other people in the library, I triumphantly purchased my ticket to several weeks worth of good-hair-days.

It was only when I googled the name of the salon to find out the opening hours that I began to feel some reservations.  The business had quite a lot of online reviews.  There were three gushing five star reviews; the same number of reviews, I imagine, as of staff who work there.  All the rest were scathing one-star reviews.  Reviews that said the hairdressers were ‘rude’ and ‘mean’.  I gulped.

I saw M again today.

“So anyway, I bought that groupon.” I announced, a little smugly.  My tone also said “See?  I’m totally capable.”

“When are you booked in?” she asked (a little knowingly, it must be said)

“Um, well, actually I haven’t booked it yet…”  I stammered.  The smugness was fast evaporating.

“Do you want me to call them for you?  I can do it right now.”

“NO!  No!  I can do it!”  I am capable, dammit!

“What’s their number?”

“No – I just need to check some things before I call them”

“What things?”

“Um, just some, um, things?”

I haven’t been yet.  My hair is still getting snagged on door knobs and looking far too brown.  But I will go.  I figure if it’s a bad experience, it will make a neat sequel to this blog post.  If it’s a good experience, I’ll have nice hair again.  It’s win-win.  So I’ll go.  I’m totally going to book it.  All I have to do is pick up the phone and arrange a time.  And I will, I totally will.

Maybe tomorrow.

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18 thoughts on “Hair Apparent

  1. kw06

    You have the most amazing hair and how beautiful is your friend M – sooooo lovely. I just LOVE your writing and descriptions, you make me laugh. Your hair is so long so long and thick, do you think you could donate it when it’s cut? I suppose that would mean you would need to ask the hairdresser the question and that would be………scary💇😍

    Reply
  2. Anna Eastland

    Do you have any friend who likes to cut hair? But is actually good at it? This is my solution for all the trickiness of getting out of the house alone and paying money….make dinner for a talented buddy who gives me a trim…win, win! 😋

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      I thought I already wrote a response to your comment weeks ago, but it’s not showing up, so I’ll write another one.
      My big fear is that if I did have a friend who cut hair, the fact that she’s my hairdresser might affect my ability to talk to her ever again. I just can’t take that risk!
      Thanks, Anna, for commenting!

      Reply
  3. nicolaknits

    I have always felt a bit intimidated by going to the hairdresser too. It’s the awkwardness of the conversation I suppose. My mother has been getting her hair done once a week for the last 60 years and she’s totally fine with it, but me? I hardly ever went. Until recently. Now that I am back at a part time job after years of homeschooling mum time, I realise that I look better with a proper cut. I went for years just trimming my own and looking at those old photos I can see that, whilst I saved a lot of money, a lot of the time my hair looked like crap!!! I am envious of your really long hair though – maybe a trim is all it needs to tidy up the split ends, and a bit of colour to blend everything together. If you can find a friend to do it, even better.

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      I know what you mean. My grandmother could charm every hairdresser she went to and chat away with no problems at all. But I’ve made a new discovery. It’s OK to go to the hairdresser with books to read and things to do and to keep conversation to a minimum. This is a bit of a revelation for me. Thank you for commenting!

      Reply
  4. Mary Rose

    Most of the hair people make me anxious. They don’t follow the times that they are supposed to and and are far too casual about it. Plus it’s such a time killer!!!!! So boring in the salon. Us type A’s have things to do! So i do it myself and multi-task while I’m doing it. Whew! Problem solved.

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      Wow! But how do you do the back? You would have liked the lady I went to. She actually set a timer on the bench for me to look at while my colour set so I knew how much time there was to go and that she hadn’t forgotten me. I am not type A. I am far too comfortable with doing nothing as the state of my laundry pile will attest…

      Reply
  5. bluestempond

    I always feel insecure with the hairdresser because I come out looking like somebody’s realtor with hairspray and a high puffy ‘do’ that doesn’t look like me at all. I take that as a comment on how I should look if I took any care at all to do my hair properly. One time, I actually blurted out as she was about to start with the hairspray, “Don’t bother to make me look too stylish.” Oops, I could see I’d offended her quite a bit.

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      Haha! Somebody’s realtor! I got a bit of that treatment myself when I finally got to the hairdressers. I looked like I should have been selling insurance or something…

      Reply
  6. emilyofoldmoon

    Hahaha Warwick-Capper Mullet! This almost made my coffee come out of my nose. So good! I’ve just been indulging in your blog after far, far too long- such a treat! Also, I like mum’s idea of you donating your hair! i know it sounds scary but at least then you know that all the anxiety would have been worth it, even if you do end up looking like Paul or Ringo hehe.

    Reply
  7. fionanicholson

    Looking forward to hearing how it went … and whether you decided to go with the black bob, the purple mullet, or the half-shaved-fancy-oriental-pattern look. 🙂

    Reply
  8. Marie-Celine

    I am growing my hair and it seems to be taking forever. My best friend can cut hair. She used to cut my fringe until I discovered that I could grow it out. I didn’t know that I could grow my fringe until I was in my late 30s. My mother never told me. She only ever told me “your fringe needs cutting”. Now I am brown and grey. I want the grey to hurry up and take over so that I can dye it purple. I would like to learn how to have a messy up-do instead of just a pony tail. These things will come. When my hair is long enough!

    Reply
    1. katelikestocreate Post author

      Purple would be awesome. The lady who cut my hair had dark hair with a dramatic grey streak that had just the slightest hint of pearly purple through it. It looked good. Isn’t a messy up-do just a ponytail that you leave in until it gets messy? I have so much to learn. Maybe go to bed with your hair up and see how it looks in the morning. There. Job done. You’re welcome.

      Thanks for commenting (and sorry for taking so long to reply – your comment somehow escaped me the first time around!)

      Reply
  9. Pingback: Red Hairring | Laptop on the Ironing Board

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