Mall Hair

Thanks to my blog (and my ever increasingly obvious roots) I realized that I was overdue for a salon visit today. I considered returning to the guy who gave me the initial cut and color, but in an effort to save money, gas, and my innocent mind, I decided to try someone else.

Finding a last minute appointment is a bit of a task. Most reputable (or overpriced) salons have a bit of a wait. So I opted for the salon inside the local JCPenney. Yep. Actually, my sister had found a really nice stylist there, so I thought I wouldn't be taking much of a risk by asking for her specifically. When I called however, they informed me that she no longer worked there. Due to the fact that when I get it in my head that I want to get something done, I HAVE to do it right then, I went ahead and made an appointment for 5 pm.

It has been quite a while since I had my hair done somewhere other than an overpriced snooty salon or a "we are too cool for colors that occur in nature" salon. The stark contrast between those and the JCPenney salon did not go unnoticed. But the prices are much lower, I reminded myself as I stared at the ceiling tiles, oddly reminiscent of my seventh grade English classroom ceiling (yes, I spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling in that class).

I tried not to be troubled by the average age of the clientele and stylists (49, maybe?). I tried not to be disturbed by the bag lady hair styles sported by some of them. I tried to be positive.

While the woman worked on my highlights, reminding me periodically that it is very difficult to do proper touch up on someone else's work, I thought about how I looked in a hat, and how that may need to become my new fashion statement of the next several months.

The woman took her time, so I kept hope that maybe, just maybe, her seemingly meticulous nature would prove successful in the end. As she pulled the foils out and rinsed my hair, I was thinking more positively. (the girl in the shampoo chair next to me who was actually my own age and had cute hair also assisted in my new found optimism) But then, as the stylist was rinsing, she would pause, pick up a few strands of my hair, then pause again. She did this several times. All optimism was now dead. I was not close enough to a mirror to see what she was examining. After some more rinsing, she walked away, saying "I'll be back in a minute."

This cannot be good, I thought to myself.

She returned with a small bowl and a brush. For the boys who don't know, this is the same thing she has when she is highlighting my hair. Bowl and brush usually mean color of some sort is being mixed. My mind started to race. Why color?! And why am I not being informed of what is going on??

My suddenly mute stylist began to dab areas of my head with the moist brush. Since I was laying back, still over the sink, I couldn't see what was going on. I could only feel and imagine.

The dabbing in small areas began to grow to all over my head. And then, with gloved hands, she began to massage whatever the moistness was all over my hair. Massage, massage, massage. Pause, inspect strands, massage some more. Finally, after a great deal of massaging (which I would have enjoyed if I wasn't busy worrying that my hair might be orange) she rinsed, shampoo'd, conditioned, and threw something else on my hair for good measure.

I walked back over to the styling chair, fearing the inevitable reveal that would take place as she removed the towel from my head. As I watched with one eye open, I saw nothing terrible. Having done horrible things to my own hair in the past, I have learned that wet hair can fool you into thinking that everything is normal. So I had to wait for the styling process to be complete (which still included some trimming....yet another thing to fear) before I could asses the damage.

Amazingly enough, my hair looks fine. It isn't wonderful mind you. I didn't walk out of there praising the stylist's skills, but it definitely doesn't look bad. And the price was definitely an improvement on past styles.

Who knows...after I give myself a day to get over the initial shock of being sure that my hair was ruined, only to find it wasn't, I may even really like my new hair.


Currently Listening to: Breathe by Tristan Prettyman
Currently Reading: Still working on the A.J. Jacobs book - I think this may be the slowest I have ever read anything