I blame Double D…Banda…and my mother for the frustration that unfolded before me today.
I had to run some errands around town: get gifts for my niece’s and sister-in-law’s upcoming birthdays…buy some socks…go pick up a copy of the original Stars Wars Trilogy just released on DVD (a must-have for any single gal)…and stop by the salon to renew my supply of Aveda products.
Well…the urgings of the three culprits listed above were ringing in my ears as I dressed for the day…
Shelley, be ready…you never know when or where you might meet that someone special.
So, instead of my usual shtick of bee-boppin’ around town on the weekends sans make-up and hair pulled back into a ponytail…I decided to fix up.
I spared no effort…full make-up…hot rolled my hair…sprayed and polished…spit and shined.
And I have to say…I looked great (or at least I felt great about how I looked) when I left for Cheveux Salon to get my Aveda products.
I knew I needed to get more Shampure shampoo and AirControl hairspray…but I also wanted to pick up some conditioner, some facial lotion, and a strong finishing spray to keep my very fine, very straight hair in place when styled.
I just wasn’t sure what kind of finishing spray I would need. I’m fairly new to the Aveda line and haven’t used their products enough to know exactly which items work best on me (although I have been very pleased with their Phomollient styling foam, AirControl spray, Shampure shampoo, and Flax Seed Aloe sculptant gel).
Um…if you haven’t been able to figure it out by now…let me spell it out for you…
My. Hair. Is. Very. Fragile. And. Needy. (much like my ego…but that’s a post for another day)
My hair lacks volume and body (geesh…if only my ass were my hair and my hair were my ass). Plus, styling my hair is like building a house of cards…it takes time, patience, dexterity, a hell of a lot of luck…and…oh, yeah…vigilant prayer for clear skies and no wind.
My hair is so very fine and thin…that, once I get it into style…I have to leave it ALONE. Too much hairspray and it looks like the bristles of a broom. Too little product and I might as well have hung cooked spaghetti noodles from my head.
Okay…so you get the point.
Anyway, when I got to Cheveux, I explained to the stylist there that I would need her help selecting a finishing spray and a facial lotion.
I want to give her credit for letting me try the products before buying them…but I’m not going to…and here’s why.
Taking two different hairsprays off the shelf, she instructed me to sit in a salon chair so we could see which products would suit my needs. It just so happened that I had a chunk of hair that was already going A.W.O.L. and falling straight down into my face…so it would be the testing ground for the products.
I thought she would just pull the chunk of hair back and give it a spritz.
But she chose to go a different route.
Instead, she ran her fingers through the front of my hair…killing the last of the curl left from the hot rollers I had removed just 20 minutes earlier. Then she held that portion of hair straight up and, with the Pure Abundance Volumizing Hair Spray nozzle a mere 3 inches from my scalp…she gave about four quick pumps of the stuff.
It all happened so fast…I had no time to react…no time to scream…no time to bat the bottle of that evil elixir to the salon floor.
All I could do was sit and blink and stare into the wall of mirrors across from me.
“Oh, my,” she said, as she quickly set the bottle down.
“Uh” was all I could manage to say.
The beautiful sweep of hair I had so carefully arranged was now sticking up from my head 6 friggin’ inches!
And we’re not talking 6 inches of hair that clumped a little and leaned over to one side…we’re talking 6 inches of hair that stood so straight and tall that I expected it to break out into a rendition of “Do I Make You Proud?”
Plus, this pillar of hair wasn’t soft and flexible…it wasn’t even just a little stiff. This chunk of shellacked pampas grass had become lethal-weapon rigid…and it wasn’t moving…at all.
I swallowed and managed to eek out, “Um…yikes. I’m out running errands today…I…can’t…leave it like this.”
Salon woman actually gave me a look like I had insulted her. Then she reached for the other bottle of spray and targeted my head for another assault. “Well, then, let’s try this one.”
This time I was Muhammad Ali. I dodged her left…missed her right…and reached for bottle.
“Do you mind if I try?”
“No, go ahead,” she said, tartly. I honestly don’t know how she kept from laughing hysterically at the fact that a fat, red-headed unicorn was sitting in her salon chair…but, to her credit, she kept a straight face and handed me a brush and the bottle.
“Thanks,” I said, as I tried to amend the damage. But it was too late. No amount of mitigation was going to fix the screw-up…which was now a sticky mess of tangled hair. So I brushed it out as much as I could…purchased my products (choosing the Firmata hair spray over the dark lord of sticky hold, Pure Abundance)…and left the salon.
Then I ran to my car (careful to dodge the glances of the two cute guys in the parking lot) and drove straight home…where I washed my hair (again) and dried it (again) and hot rolled it (again) and styled it (again). And, of course, all my make-up had to be touched up…as my liquid eyeliner had fought the good fight while I shampood but lost the battle when I had to rinse out my conditioner.
And after all of that…I’d love to tell you that I met the man of my dreams at the Best Buy…or that I flirted audaciously with a cutie at the Barnes & Noble…but, alas, the only notice my efforts afforded me was when a cashier asked to see my license and said…”You look different with your glasses.”
Funny thing was…I was wearing my glasses.
So, basically, despite rolling my hair twice and buying $70 worth of hair products and taking extra time to moisturize and put on make-up…I couldn’t even compete with my own i.d. photo.
You know, between today and my last visit to the salon, I’m beginning to think these places were created just to make us realize how hopeless we truly are in the beauty department.
I think I’m gonna stick with my normal ponytail-no-make-up weekend routine from now on.
Sure, I may look like crap…but at least it will lower my chances of having a stress-induced stroke on a Saturday.