I’ve never really had anyone regular who has cut or styled my hair. Up until about two years ago, I didn’t even know the difference between a “blow dry” and a “blow out.” I figured that since they both had the same first word that they must mean the same thing (then I had the ugliest “blow-out” done by my friend’s friend’s cheap mother in Woodside and also got charged an additional $25 for it, and I hated it and immediately combed it out when I got home). But then Chris hooked me up with Astor Hair Stylists, this dingy basement full of interesting and eclectic (and well priced) stylists, and I found a beautiful Sicilian woman who has given me many great, reliable, and affordable cuts in the last three years.
My Sicilian stylist gets bored easily. I’m pretty sure that every time I have seen her, her hair has been different; curly, wavy, straight, stick-straight; pink, strawberry-blonde, bright fiery red with bleach-blonde tips. She’s unfailingly happy and excited all the time. The very first time she saw me, she asked if I would be interested in coloring my hair. “You would look fabulous with some lovely highlights!” she exclaimed gleefully. You could see the thrill going through her head as her eyes lit up, feeling up my strands of hair and my scalp as she twinkled while looking at me in the mirror. But I’ve rejected her one time after another. And she scolds me sometimes because on average, I get my hair cut only twice a year (I must really have the cheapest annual spend on hair imaginable among women). So I tend to come to her chair with frazzled and split ends, and she has to tell me that I need to trim more often to keep the splitzies at bay.
I finally took her up on her offer. I texted her a couple weeks ago to ask her how much she’d charge for bayalage highlights. They’re supposed to be more natural looking when they grow out, and also less harsh than regular highlights. She was obviously ecstatic, especially when I agreed to come in. So I came in today, we talked over what we thought we would do, and she did it. And when the moment came for her to blow-dry my hair and dramatically have me flip my head up, I looked in the mirror and thought… What? I can barely see them. And I’m wearing my contacts today.
Then, I went to dinner, and Chris barely noticed until I pointed it out. And neither did two of our friends until I told them I literally just got this done an hour ago. And I felt so dejected. This isn’t how this was supposed to be.
It’s okay. I’m going back next Tuesday to “dramatize” my new look. Hopefully then, when I do the dramatic head-up, I will actually have a dramatic reaction.