I went to get a haircut today. Usually for me this is a very joyful task, not this time. See, I'm in the search for the perfect stylist (you must know what I'm talking about). Today I went to a local reputable Aveda salon in Maple Grove hoping to be approached by some cute gal with super funky hot hair, instead this overweight woman greets me with long washed-out bleach blonde hair that looks like you could break it off like straw. Great!! I thought, but decided to put away my judgemental feelings and go with the flow. "We'll start off with some relaxation therapy" she tells me and pours essential oils in my hair and starts massaging my scalp. Maybe she saw the hesitation in my face or something, I don't know. After a very relaxing scalp, shoulder, and hand massage I almost forgot I was here to get a haircut, and that started to worry me a little. I think the herby mint, coriander, thyme, and those really pretty massage oil smells make you delusional somehow, because I sat back in the salon chair like a little puppet doll totally ignoring my instincts.
The haircut itself didn't take very much time at all. Of course I told her I just wanted a trim and I warned her my hair is very thick and curly. She actually had the nerve to criticise my hair saying this was the reason it's very hard to cut it. What!! I took immediate offense- I view my hair kinda like my family, I can bitch and complain all day long but as soon as someone else does... oh, it's on sista!! I really tried to keep my face that time, but I really wanted to say something. I forget I often speak with my face because shortly after she nicked herself in the finger with the shears and had to go to the back and get a band aid.
Anyways, long story short I ended up with a super boring flat haircut that I'm not really thrilled with. The funny part of the story is that before I left the salon she insisted upon "touching up my make-up". At that point I just felt so bad for her (I told you, it's those essential oils) I just let her do it thinking I can always wash it off. I did remind her that I didn't have any make-up on to touch up, but she told me it would make me feel better. Whatever! She obviously doesn't know about my Bobbi Brown fetish, but how would she?
When I got home I oomph'd my hair style up a bit and I'm good to go to girls night out with Christine, so no sense crying over spilled milk right?
About Me
- anna
- Albertville, Minnesota, United States
- Married to the man of my dreams (you know who you are). I'm a critical care nurse who loves to listen to simply red (..I keep holding on..)
6 comments:
I love this story. I truly believe that the stylist has to have cuter hair than the stylee. Otherwise you're in for it.
And that is why I get my hair done by Rachel Licursi *salutes*. (this would be funny if she read your blog but she probably doesn't)
p.s. I bet you tipped this horrible hair cutter out of pity, and gave her a big one. Am I right?
I gave her $5 tip :)
You could go back to driving out to Hutchinson, for your haircuts, and come and visit me while you are at it.
Keri, I'm definately leaning towards going back to hutch for haircuts. You can be expecting me in about 6-8 weeks.
Yeah!!!!
Why is it they always insult the haircut you had before. One time a gal said to me, "I'll give you a more feminine bang." I wanted to punch her in her stupid face. She tried the whole, "When would you like me to schedule your next appointement?" I was trying not to be rude, even though she was rude to me, and I got all nervous trying to not make another appointment. Why can't I ever say no? So I called later and cancelled it. By the way, when I got in the car with my friend Tiff, we were laughing so hard because my hair was HORRIBLE. It was so bad I could only laugh, and try to flatten it with my hands.
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