Thursday, October 30, 2008

Frittering

I should be studying, but instead I am frittering. I like to live dangerously, as far as exams are concerned.

Yesterday I called a hair salon that is new to me but that I wanted to try and by some miracle they were able to give me an appointment today with one of their stylists who usually has a four to five week waiting period. I avoid getting my haircut, since while the experience usually has gratifying results, I have spent a lot of time fretting that I am not entertaining enough to the stylist because I am not brimming with chitchat. And I hate those salon sinks that as often as not, leave me with a tender, bruised spot on the back of my head. And I am awkward about leaving a tip--how to do it unobtrusively, with no vulgar fumbling through one's wallet. Nowadays, of course, you can leave the tip on the credit card bill, a fabulous step forward for society, but last night I read that stylists prefer a cash tip because then it is not reported to the IRS which left me in a last minute dilemma about whether I should fumble or just use the credit card. (I used the credit card.)

When I was little, my mother believed firmly in Short Haircuts for Little Girls. The result was that I looked like Christopher Robin, which was probably the look she was aiming for anyway, and perhaps if I could go back in time and see myself with objective, adult eyes, I'd admit that I looked elegant in an artless British boarding school sort of way, but at the time I thought I was hideous.

What I'm saying is that haircuts rank near the top of what I consider socially awkward, possibly emotionally damaging situations.

Then there's the issue of my hair being so thick, it borders on the freakish so that if I don't keep up with haircuts (which I don't) I look like I am wearing a heavy hair shawl. Stylists tend to run late when working with me because my hair takes so long to dry. This in turn makes me feel guilty for making them get backed up, and sometimes I am tempted to apologize, but I restrain myself because I don't want to be passive-aggressive, and anyway, it's not my fault I was born with a grizzly bear's pelt on my head.

Anyway, today's experience was fabulous, although it started out awkward when I got to the door and couldn't open it, and then wondered if perhaps I needed to be buzzed in, and no doubt looked very foolish to the people inside, watching me through the glass, as I hunted for a non-existent doorbell. At least I had the sense to try the door again (it had stuck) before I knocked and made an even bigger ass of myself.

Despite the sticky door, I think I will switch permanently to this new salon, where, after consulting with the stylist, I was left in the hands (literally) of a young apprentice who rubbed oil into my hair and massaged my neck and head with such skill that I wondered if I could marry him. The shampoo did not give me a bruised head this time, and the haircut is fabulous.

I don't even know why I am writing about all this, other than to delay having to start studying for my med-surg exam tomorrow. I did, however, stock up on more Yerba Mate. During the last set of exams, I scored 98 and 96, and no doubt the Yerba Mate and my lucky bra were responsible. Yerba mate, you recall, is the stimulating beverage of Argentina. The last time I drank it, I was so stimulated I crashed my Toyota into my old Volvo that is gently composting itself in a corner of the driveway. Actually, that's an exaggeration. I crash my Toyota into the Volvo all the time, and I'm sure the yerba mate had nothing to do with it.

On to studying. At least my lucky bra is clean.

9 comments:

  1. Where was this Xanadu you visited?

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  2. There are few things more satisfying than a good haircut. And a lucky bra.

    Good luck on your test!

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  3. Great hair experiences are TOTALLY noteworthy. So glad you had that to take the edge off your exams!

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  4. What, no picture? We need picture of this fabulous new 'do.

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  5. Jen, it was Three Esthetics on S. 2nd St.

    Anonymous, I took a picture, but I thought it might be cheesy to post it.

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  6. It's not cheesy -- and inquiring minds want to know!

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  7. We definitely need a photo. Don't make me come over and take one myself!

    My mother also believed in the Christopher Robin/ Prince Valiant haircut and I didn't have long hair until college.

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  8. Congrats on getting a great haircut. I suffer the same anxiety in the chair. Sorry, but I don't know what the stylist and I have in common and I once made the mistake of letting my stylist start going on about her soon-to-be-ex-husband, and what an awful cut that turned out to be. I was luck to escape with both my ears. Make sure you wear your lucky bra next Tuesday! That nasty senate race makes the creator of the Willie Horton ad look like an eagle scout.

    (former xangan cfairy)

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  9. Molly, I will wear my lucky bra on election day. It's nice to see a fellow xanga person here. :)

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