|Bad hair day?|
I am much like my alter ego, Miss horsey. I sometimes suffer from bad hair days, and finding and keeping a hair stylist has never been easy for me. It started way back when…
I was 8 or 9 and my mother, who favored the mile high beehive hairdos offered to take me to her stylist for a haircut. I was ecstatic! A real stylist was something that I had never had the opportunity to experience. Mom had always just sat me down in a kitchen chair and lopped off an inch here or there. I sat in that salon waiting for that Cinderella transformation. When I got home my brothers teased me mercilessly comparing me to none other than the father of our country, George Washington. That’s what I get for going to my mother’s hairdresser!
I never learn, though. A few years pass and while I was readying myself for a High School dance, my mother again suggested I go to what she called a Beauty parlor. I should have known it wasn’t going to be pretty as I sat waiting next to my mom and two or three ladies with bluish hair. An hour or so later I emerged looking (and I’m not trying to insult any old time country music stars here) a bit like I was gearing up for a Loretta Lynn lookalike contest. Mile high, big hair was just not my idea of a perfect hairstyle for a 16 year-old. I went home and combed and pulled at the teased tresses. I yanked out my hair by the bucket loads. And when I was done, I looked well, acceptable. Not bell of the ball pretty, but acceptable.
So I stayed away from “beauty parlors” for several years. Then, tiring of my simple ultra straight Cher Bono hair, I walked into a hair studio and asked the girl to give me a style. She did. For six months I sported something similar to Elvis sideburns. We won’t even mention the mullet look.
Years have passed and I try and forget my bad hair experiences. You know I live by the “if at first you don’t succeed try, try again” adage. Every now and then I get a hairdresser that I like but after I get used to him or her and think I have someone I can trust…I call to make an appointment, and they are gone. Poof! Into thin air and the salon (of course) doesn’t know where they went.
Right now I am in desperate need of a trim. I can tell because Miss Horsey and I are looking very similar. I call and find that my current favorite hairdresser is not there. Surprise…bad hair day here I come!