Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Hairdressers - no, not again!

I think I may be weird?!  Or at the very least, not normal.

My sympathies lie with the poodle

I HATE having to go to the hairdressers, beauty salon, nail parlor, day spa ... anything that involves the following I loath:

  • Long hours sitting/lying still with bubbling brook or Enya music
  • Wasting hours and hours of my time with tin foil in my hair
  • Looking at myself in a mirror for hours as a pre-occupied hair 'sylist' looks at herself in the mirror at the same time - and if our eyes meet a pale, weak smile from both of us
  • Having to endure inane chatter about the weather, what she/he/I did last weekend, the latest boyfriend/girlfriend or both
  • Having to flick through stupid gossip magazines, or worse, Vogue - with blank looking twigs on the pages.
  • Have the apprentice girl/guy make me really bad coffee and have to pretend its fine.
  • Pay an absolute fortune to have my grey hairs covered, my split ends trimmed and be called 'darl.
This certainly would not be me - I can't smile like that in a salon!


So, I rarely have any 'beauty' treatments, other than a 6 weekly visit to the beautician to have my eyebrows whipper snippered, which is necessary so I can see.  My hair gets attention only 3 times a year ... and I have the brown/grey drag strip down my part line and split ends to prove it.  The only time I have ever had a manicure or pedicure was in Bali - and that was because my BFF told me I had to!

Today I had to go and buy shampoo (I do treat myself to the good stuff, but only because it does last much longer and helps my very bad split ends) from my usual hairdresser and my 'colourist' served me and asked when I was coming in to do something about the very obvious dark roots.  I had also been gently chastised by son #1 on the weekend for being such a mess, so I booked a three hour (yes three insufferable hours) session this Friday.  Jarad, my colourist, will cover the dark roots, add foils, and highlights, give me a 'treatment' complete with a hot towel and a scalp massage. Then my stylist, Laura, will trim, tutt how bad it is, shape, blow wave and mousse my hair into a boofy, silly 'do' that I will have to go back to my office wearing and endure the painful 'oh that looks nice' or 'had your hair done?' comments by the staff.

Unbearable, but has to be done.  When I moan to other women about this they all stare at me blankly. When I moan to men about it, they all wish I was their wife instead. 

Recently, I declined a free half day session at a day spa when a friend offered it to me, as she had booked it, but an emergency with her mums health stopped her attending.  I had no other reason to decline, other than I could not bear the thought of wasting half of my Saturday laying about being pampered.  I feel awkward, weird, and certainly not relaxed.  Give me a good book and half a day in bed and I will show you relaxed and pampered!

Apparently I am weird?

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