Haircuts and husband being strange…continued…
I woke up this morning with a sore back; husband had been hugging me all night. I thought I was being suffocated, but apparently I was only being ‘loved’. Mmmmmmm….
He is still talking ‘supportive’ and ‘lovely’ its making me freak…I will get to the bottom of this. I will probably open a letter and find out he owes £70,0000 in some gambling debt, or open the cupboard and find a dead woman in there, some woman he has killed in a strange sexual accident…who knows…he must be behaving this weird for some reason other than ‘love’. Who knows?
Meanwhile my hair is horrid and putting up such a fight lately, it had overgrown and became unmanageable so I decided to go to the hair stylist and get a compete overhaul. My hair is so black as I have been dyeing it myself in between salon visits and I have no real idea how to do it properly.
I have realised that it needs to go lighter, but slowly, I can’t really go blonde over night! Well I don’t want to go blonde actually as I have been dark all my life…but as we get older we woman all go blonde eventually!
So there I was sitting in a fancy hair salon in Glasgow’s West End. This was the first time I had been to this hair stylist.
It was very smart and well furnished; the girl who took my coat introduced herself and shook my hand (like I was meeting my bank manager).
Then I met the stylist, who also shook my hand as did the girl who was washing my hair! It was like being at a meet and greet!
The woman who was going to ‘do my hair’ came over, felt a lock of my hair, berated me for dyeing it at home, was disgusted at the amount of ‘colour on colour’ that my hair had been through (like my hair was a child whom I had abused…deliberately), she then got another girl over to mock the dryness and stressed look of my ‘ends’, she then asked me how often I ‘dyed it at home’ (she says this accusingly in the same way a social worker would say “How often do you beat Tommy with a sharp stick?”).
After I confessed to the horrible desperate habit of home dyeing, she then proceeded to give me a menu of what she was going to do to my head, it included ‘foil lights’ a ‘colour bath’ a ‘colour treatment’ and a ‘sharp cut all over’. I nodded and let her get on with it all.
Three hours later I have a shapely well groomed head of dark but with all over highlights- shiny healthy hair. I have promised never to home colour and will make sure I go back every month to get my roots done and a treatment.
She was a professional bully, but fucking good at her job.
On the way out I shook hands with the cleaner; she was surprised, but smiled.
Husband loves my hair, he hugged me when I came home and told me he likes my colour. I want to hit him with a sharp stick, where the man who laughed at my hair cuts and slagged me off for spending so much at a salon?_