I have a hairdresser. This is a miracle of sorts considering my severe salonophobia. I make it in to the hair salon hopefully once every three months but four and five are not uncommon. This time it has been five. I didn’t even think she would know who I was considering my tri-yearly visit and shoddy tipping skills (What do you tip your stylist?) But she has just started her own shop and I’m a huge supporter of anybody with the balls and stamina to run their own business so I book myself an appointment, assuming she would not even know who I was. Only she does. She knows my name and that I have two girls and that I had a business and sold it. She knows me. This shocks me for some reason. Like shit, now I have to explain, and justify, my mop.
I take out the elastic. Ugh.
“Woa, you’ve got some serious mamma hair going on here!”
Blunt. Honest. Funny. Yah, I like her. Which is why she’s the only stylist I have ever made a repeat appointment with.
I do indeed have mamma hair. Which is totally unfair to mamma’s I realize. Like mom jeans. Unfair to say yet no need for further explanation either.
I can not even justify this. Yes, I am a mom but I have time. I can find an hour a month for myself. I can find an hour a week to watch The Hills and the After Show for crying out loud so an hour a month or two (see, already I’m pushing back the date!) is doable.
I’m sure there is something deep and underlying here in which I deep down feel like I’m not good enough. Or pretty enough. Or whatever. Until Oprah calls though, I’m not going to go there.
I am going to opt for another tactic instead. One called the calendar of shame whereby I mark this post’s link on the calendar two months hence giving myself a swift kick in the arse to book an appointment NOW. Not 1,2,3 months more.
So listen here Kari of the not to distant future, do you feel better with thick, greasy, hair pulled back in a ponytail so often you suffer from too-much-hair-headaches:
Cutest baby in the world! But bad hair….
Or would you feel better like this:
Well then, get your ass to your hair stylist girl!
NOW WOMAN! (Said in scary mamma-means-business tone so don’t mess with her! Errr… me…)
No, do not wait until that ‘special’ occasion (shopping at Ikea is not an outing girl…) Yes, you do have enough money. Yes, you are in the lake lots so what does it matter but you also come out. And hair dries. Fast.
Oh my god, I am so calling Laura and telling on you/me. GAWD…