learn what others had given up. I think the most common thread was that alcohol, sweets and soda were the main sacrifices. I overheard the following conversation: " We are going to be so healthy and sexy after 40 days!" I was a little confused as to whether this was a description of a spiritual journey or a spa visit. Another friend decided to add something instead, and chose the addition of vodka to her cranberry juice each night.My own family had some small issues. Matthew finally decided on ice cream, which he probably has about once a month. Unfortunately, we went out to eat last night, and I saw him drooling over the menu insert which had a picture of a brownie and ice cream. Thinking I hadn't seen it, he asked "Mom, maybe I should change my Lent 'thing'." So much for endurance.
Gabrielle decided to add Sprite to her original sacrifice of chocolate. This way, "if I mess up on one, I will still have the other." Good thinking. Glad she has learned that whole CYA thing early on.
Tony has still not decided on his... (just not down with the whole "40 days thing.")
And I am wishing I had kept mine to myself, remembering last year when I accidentally took a sip of diet coke, and my kids screamed "You Cheated! Mom Cheated" in the middle of a restaurant. Anyway, on with today's musings...
After taking a look at the headlines, including more job losses, bank bailouts and tax hikes, I have decided to discuss yesterday's visit to the Hair Salon. Now I hate to go to the Hair Salon, but I also like my hair to look good. So every few months, I drag myself over to the salon to get highlights and a trim. Sometimes I threaten to get something new and different done , and I cut out a picture of some new celebrity hair cut and show it to my hair dresser. She nods and agrees, and then proceeds to do exactly the same thing as last time. It's like we have this unspoken pact that I will pretend to want to be trendy, and she will pretend be able to do it. In the end, she does the same thing as usual, we nod in agreement, and I go home happy.
Your hair dresser, once you find one you like, becomes a special person in your life. You may or may not even like them, but due to previous bad hair salon experiences, you are willing to overlook this. Case in point for me would be my previous hair dresser whom I will call "Jessie". I won't mention her real name because I am afraid of her. There is always the 1 % chance she could read this and come and find me.
When I first moved back to Atlanta years ago, I was modeling part-time (a subject for a different blog) and my agency referred me to "Jessie" to get my hair done. Now "Jessie" looked just like Wynnona Judd, but she dressed a little better (think very carefully about that visual). The first time I met her, she ordered me into her chair, shook her head in disgust, and proceeded to do something to my hair without even asking me what I wanted done. Feeling too scared of her to question it, I sat there in suspense until at last, she flung me towards the mirror. "You're done." It was amazing. My hair, which can best be described as a "managed mess" was beautiful. I was totally hooked, and over the next several years, I would do what ever it took to get to "Jessie" to do my hair. Of course, she totally abused me... made me wait hours past the appointment time, took phone calls during my trims, and I swear she raised her prices in the middle of my appointments. But the worst thing was that she was the meanest person I had ever met. She spoke terribly about everyone from her mom, to her husbands (3 over the 10 years I went to her), to her co-workers, even to the person sitting in the next chair. I had no doubt that as soon as I left, she started on me. I was actually ashamed that I sat there and listened to it. But the minute I saw my hair in the mirror after each visit, I knew I would be back again.
The final straw came after my last child was born. I had moved an hour and a half away, but I had driven down in between feedings to get a cut. Not only did she not show up, but when I called her, she laughed it off and offered me $10 off on my next visit. I decided on my way home that it was no longer worth it.
The next week, I started a search for a replacement which would last for a couple of years. I wore a lot of hats and ponytails, and listened to Tony say things like "it's not that bad" a lot.
Last year I found my new hair home, and we are very happy together. No miracles are performed, but at least I don't feel ashamed of myself after leaving.
The real subject of this blog was to be the conversations I overheard in the chair yesterday, which ranged from funny to troubling...but those will have to wait for Part 2...
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