IT'S ABOUT MY HAIR

I wanted my hair to look like Jane Fonda's.  So it sort of ended up looking more like Judge Judy's and now it will soon morph into a Janet Reno look.   I mean, I took a picture with me.  I had plenty of hair to work with, so what happened?

I guess it's me.  I've had this problem all my life with hair dressers.  I find one I like and then over time the relationship sort of deteriorates.  I had one guy a few years ago who just went bonkers and now, the last I heard is living in a homeless shelter.  I must have this awful effect on stylists.  And for the life of me I don't know why.  Do I speak a different language?  When I say, just take a little off, does that translate into "I want a pixie cut?"  I just don't get it.  

When I was living in  Virginia I went to a Korean hair dresser who gave me a lovely short haircut.  I mean probably the best cut I'd ever had.  I got all kinds of complements on it.  I went back to her just to get the bangs trimmed at bit.  Well, the whole time she was cutting my hair she was talking in Korean to a friend of hers.  I mean, I couldn't get her attention to tell her to stop!  By the time she was finished, I looked like a plucked chicken.  I mean my hair was so short I couldn't have gotten the smallest roller around it. When she turned my chair around I was so stunned I couldn't even speak.   I must have been in a state of shock because I said nothing and just gave her a check and left the salon.

I drove directly to a wig shop.  The owner of the shop was very nice to me, asking me how my treatment was going.  I didn't bother telling her I was not in any treatment, just got a terrible haircut.  Thank heaven they had some really cute wigs and I was able to buy one and put it on before anyone saw me.  A few days later I went back to the shop.  When I walked in she said "Oh you hair look nice."  With that I whipped off the wig and said "How do you like it now?  This is what you did to me!"  Needless to say that ended that relationship.

Then there was the place in Middletown, where I'd been going to have my hair cut and highlighted.  I was very happy with the guy who had done my hair several times.  The last time I went, another person did the highlighting and I thought my regular guy would style it.  Wrong.  First off I was soaked to the skin, to the point where they had to give me a gown and put my clothing in the dryer.  Then the girl that soaked me blew my hair dry and it looked horrible.  Oh and my clothes were still wet when I left the shop.  All that and I was charged an exorbitant rate.  Once again I was so upset and cold from having to put on damp clothing, I just paid and left, never to darken their doorway again.

Now I go to a very nice woman who is very good, very cheap and Very talkative.  I mean she talks from the minute you walk into her basement where she has her shop until you leave.  But she is good and the price is right, so I guess I'll stay with her - at least until I need my next haircut, which will be a while since she's the one who instead of giving me Jane Fonda gave me Judge Judy.  And to think, I didn't want chemo because I didn't want to lose my hair.  What was I thinking?