I spent the better part of last week contemplating how I could talk my family of 6 into eating macaroni and cheese for a month so I could afford hair extensions. Well, not out loud, but in my head. I decided their therapy cost for doing this would far outweigh the cost of the extensions. And because I'm careful with my money, I decided to forgo the actual conversation. And extensions.
But I have had some hair dilemmas since moving to the city. Well, actually my whole life. I'm really confused as to why God did not give me natural blond hair, when obviously that is really the best color for me. I have been coloring my hair since college and finding that perfect shade of buttery blond is a challenge. Can I get a witness?
When my first son was born, he had the most gorgeous shade of blond hair. I used to take him with me to get my hair done for a visual. I would sit him on my lap and tell the stylist, "See this? Put this on my head. Thank you." But now his hair has turned dark and I can't do that anymore.
I tried a new colorist on the upper east side yesterday. No one recommended her to me. Well, the Internet did and that is almost a real person, right? I had issues as soon as I walked in the shop. Allow me to share.
1. They told me to go hang up my coat. What? You're not going to do that for me? I need to feel a little pampered.
2. They did not offer me a beverage. Umm...Hello? Its after 12 o'clock and that salon down the street serves wine. But really, some water would have even been nice.
3. The staff had Chinese takeout for lunch. The entire salon was filled with Kung Pow Chicken aroma. Mix that with a little bleach, shampoo, and hairspray...not exactly aromatherapy, people. But I did decide to incorporate stir fry into our dinner lineup this week.
OK. As if I don't already sound like snob, I'm going to go ahead and add the last one. The clincher for me.
4. SHE ASKED ME TO HELP HER BY HANDING HER THE FOILS. I'm not sure why some stylists do this? Really, I don't. It is one of my biggest pet peeves. It makes me have flashbacks to my youth where I'm at the kitchen table handing my mother the perm rods as she does yet another perm to my stick-straight hair.
Note to all styists: I am a mother of 4. The salon experience is supposed to be relaxing for me. A place to recharge. A place to catch up on Brangelina and my other celebrity friends. I can't do that if I'm helping you do my own hair, right? Plus, if I'm your new assistant, I'd really enjoy a discount.
So, I am on the search yet again for a colorist in the city that won't cost more than my rent each month and will provide a tad more pampering. Thinking of starting a prayer chain for this.
What about you? What is your worst salon experience?