Bad hair day?

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!