Went to get my hair cut and colored today (Wednesday). I was itching for something different. Something new and amazing… like a new head. I plopped in the chair and Chris (my stylist and the owner of the salon…he lets me call him Chris 🙂 )started as he always does…”lets talk about you hair..”
“Well, here’s the thing,” I jumped right in. “I’m having a really ugly month and I’m gonna need for you to fix that for me.”
He froze. Staring at me in the mirror, fingertips on top of my head. I went on…”I don’t want to freak you out but I’m in peri-menopause and I’m in quite a mood today. Everything. And I do mean everything on my body is going straight to hell. I’ve not felt this ugly since I was 12. I don’t have a plastic surgeon or a therapist. All I have is you. And today I need you. Today I need to leave here feeling better.”
Silence. Pregnant pause. Heavy sigh…
“Crap.” Is kinda what he said.
We talked a little more about what I had in mind. I tried to describe how drastic I wanted to go. After about 3 minutes of me describing, with scissors poised ready to snip, he said; “So what you’re saying is that you want it trimmed to the scalp till you bleed? I’m not doing it.”
“Hummmm, okay.” I rolled my eyes mimicking the pre-teen I felt like. “Just go ahead and do whatever you want.”
And he did. Trim a little, snip a little more, some texture here and there …whatever. It was a nice change but not drastic at all.He took an hour (maybe a little less) to blow out, smooth out and straighten my frizzy hair. When he was done he sighed about the same time I did…
I was gazing at my not so bad hair in the mirror thinking…The man totally gets me. He’s my hair soul mate. I will never break up with him. NOT EVER!
I opened my mouth to tell him these things when his arm fell to his side, he cocked his head a little and said:
“After today I think I’m adding a menopause-clause to my pricing sheet. If a woman is anywhere near menopause, I’m charging double.”
Now, he smiled when he said it but I fear I’m putting way too much pressure on the poor man.
As I was leaving, I wondered if it’s legal for a him to break up with me? Remember, we’ve talked about this before. I’ve always been the one to break it off with my stylists. I’ve used them like a flavor of the month and left them without so much as a ‘Dear-John’ letter. Surely he wouldn’t dare…the thought unnerved me.
Before I push him right over the edge I may have to add to my support system Peeps. I can’t after all expect a single stylist, no matter how perfect he is for me, to keep my delicate ego intact.
So what do ya think? Should I go with the plastic surgeon or the therapist???