Goddamn useless woman.
I went to the hairdresser today. This is always a bold move, because it means going to someone who has not earned my trust - and then allowing them full power over my fragile hair's self-esteem. Mills does not understand this. To men, a hairdresser is a hairdresser is a hairdresser. To woman a hairdresser is selected carefully, generally by process of trial-and-error elimination. They can make or break you emotionally. My beloved hairdresser is unfortunately in South Africa, and I can't afford the flight home for her to restyle my hair every three months.
Anyway, it had to be done so I went an booked an appointment. Awesome. They led me to a chair in front of the mirror. What do you want done, the young blonde kapper asked me. Just a trim and a thin, I replied - not wanting to allow room for too much drastic change.
She loosened my hair, picked up the scissors and seemed ready to chop.
Um, aren't you going to wash it first..? I quickly enquired.
Oh - do you want it washed too? She asked wide-eyed.
I don't know, is it just me, or is the wetting of the hair not standard before cutting it? I thought it was. Anyway, after the brusquest of washes (She even asked if I wanted conditioner too... yes, I want fucking conditioner... where the heck did you learn your trade? Are you kidding me? Needless to say, there was no gentle scalp massage included), I was back in the chair in front of the mirror.
She was clearly struggling with my thick curly locks. I know this because a) I could see it and b) she told me so a few times.
Very thick hair... very, very thick hair...
Yes, I know, I'm fairly accustomed to it; it growing on my head on a daily basis and all.
By this stage, I was damn sure she was going to do nothing to my hair but cut the dead-ends off and dry it straight. Not much room for error there. Even this turned out to be a mistake. First she had to clarify if I wanted it dried with a hairdryer and a hairbrush, or just with a towel and her blessed hands.
Are a towel and your hands likely to get my hair straight? No. Then I'll go for option A, please dearie.
The woman insisted that my hair was too thick to blow dry straight. This is crap because other hairdressers in the past have managed... and on much tighter curls than my own. Blondie (with her limp, thin hair) should be made to do community service in an African hair salon. Then she'd know all about challenging hair.
She tried to convince me that she should curl instead of trying to straighten. I figured I'd give her a break and agreed. Mistake number 2. Her attempt at curling my CURLY hair turned it into a cross between Medusa and an ambitious rabbi (minus the beard), with ringlets snaking out of control at 90 degrees from each other.
Now will you please blowdry my hair, possibly professionally, but if you can't manage that, at least just calm it down to below hurricane-inflicted, which is how it looks at the moment.
So, she did half a job and I left the salon with my hair half-wet, having had enough of her incompetent attempts. At least she only charged me half-price for doing more to stuff up my hair than repair it.
I stomped home, got out my brush and hairdryer and wouldn't you know it... straightened my hair.
To my true hairdresser back home, who also has curly "unstraightenable" hair (which she surprisingly can get perfectly straight)... I miss you!