Me's All That

So, I've already said I'm not an elegant woman.  I'm not a beautiful one either.

Yeah, yeah..."Oh, you're so hard on yourself" I hear you saying.  Well, that's very kind of you, imaginary person reading this, but it's true.  I'm not saying I'm like a drooling wombat but I ain't exactly a gazelle either.

I like to think of myself as your average, everyday, run-of-the-mill duck billed platypus.  

Cute in an odd way.  

Or odd in a cute way.  

Either way, I digress...

When I decide to do something "beautifying" I usually like to keep my expectations relatively low (and the cost, as well).  Just a trim here, a wax there - you know, the basics.

Well, last Friday turned into a little bit of a mini makeover, much to my surprise.  I went to the salon just for a little trim and walked out feeling like Rachael Leigh Cook (you other millennials should appreciate that reference).  

Of course, my life being what it is, my "She's All That" moment wouldn't be complete without a little bit of "Sixteen Candles" humor (something for you Gen Xers) to go with it.

Let's begin.

Last Friday was a busy day for me.  I had the day off from work but I still booked it with a doctor's appointment and several errands to run.  One of which was dropping off a package to the UPS store.  Since the store is right next to the Supercuts I like to go to for quick haircuts, I thought I should pop in to see if they could take me as a walk-in.

I poked my head in and saw two stylists, a man and woman, sitting in their styling chairs chatting.  There was no one else in the salon.

"Hi," I said smiling, "do you have time for a walk-in?" I asked.

"Sure," the woman said getting up.  She wore a fiery red dress that looked amazing on her curves and long black hair that drifted past her shoulders.  The man also got up from his chair and smiled at me as I sat down in the woman's chair.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked running her fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of the tangled, orange mess.  I hadn't cut or colored my hair in months, and I knew that it looked it.  So I tried to play it off.

"Well, if you think you can tame this mop," I said jovially, "I'd really like it to look like one of these pictures on my phone.  But I'll be honest, this -" I said, pulling out my frizzy hair in all its glory, "-is how I wear my hair.  I am really a shake n' go kind of girl.  I don't really style it other than putting some mousse in it.  Partly because I'm really lazy but also because my hair is too thick to bother."

The woman, I'll call her Alexis, smiled at my silly self-deprecation as I hoped she would.  Even the man, who I'll call James, chuckled amicably.  She began examining my hair but then asked to see the pictures on my phone.

I was so proud of myself for compiling a nice little collection of hairstyles on one of my Pinterest boards.  I felt so organized.  

Until I couldn't open the Pinterest page.  I kept opening and closing the app but it was no use.  The salon must've had a dead signal or else the Internet was down.  Either way, I struggled to bring one photo, any photo, that I had saved to come up.  

"It kinda looks like this...or...well, ok, it's still spinning...." I stammered.  Hell, I thought.

Meanwhile, Alexis kept playing with my hair.  

"Did you color your hair yourself?" she asked in that "stylist" tone.  Going to a hair salon with your hair pre-dyed from a box feels like a betrayal somehow.  Like going out to McDonalds when you've got a gourmet meal waiting for you at home.  They both get the job done but chances are you're not going to be feeling great about yourself later on when that Big Mac is tearing through your intestinal tract.  And in both the hair and food scenarios there will probably be some burning sensations somewhere caused by the cheaper alternative.

(This analogy could also apply to visiting cheap hookers vs. high-class escorts as well, but I digress...)

"Yeah..."I admit, shyly meeting Alexis' eyes in the mirror.  

"Hmm.." Alexis says.  "Your color starts well past your roots now, and it's a pretty strong color that has just faded.  We could dye it another color if you like?"

I considered this for a second as I also glanced at my hair.  She was right.  It looked like my hair had been half-dipped in orange Tang but I hadn't really anticipated the cost, both in time and money, for a dye-job on top of a haircut.  I asked how much it would cost and how long it would take.  She said it would be about $45 for the dye and it would only take about 50 minutes.  I glanced at my phone.  Joe was going to pick up Joey from daycare, and other than running to the grocery store, I didn't have any more errands to run.

What the hell, I thought.  In for a penny, in for a pound.  I like this saying and I seem to keep finding excuses to say it.

Alexis brought over some dye colors and after we selected one, she left to go mix it.  As I sat there, I suddenly noticed I was thirsty.  I hadn't drank much water, plus I had jogged in the morning, so I was feeling particularly parched.  Ah well, I thought, when Alexis gets back, maybe she'll offer me a bottle of water or something.  I went back to my phone, trying to see if I could finally get my Pinterest pictures to load.

Meanwhile, James had just gotten a customer in his chair - a young boy, maybe around 7 or 8.  His mom was hanging around him for a little while but soon retreated to the waiting area in the front when she realized he was fine.  I was still playing with my phone when my ear picked up on their conversation.

"So what do you want to be when you grow up?" James asked amiably.

"A soldier," the boy said affirmatively.

"Oh...," James said, a little surprised.  "Oh, so you want to be in the army or marines?"

"I want to fight for my country," the boy said.  "And I'll get $500 for doing it."

My eyes flew up from my phone.  

"Oh, ok, that's cool," James said, buzzing the kid's hair.  I didn't get a chance to listen to the rest of that conversation because then Alexis returned with the dye.  

As she began painting it on my head we started chatting about our lives.  I told her I had a three-year old son and that we were in the grips of potty-training.

"Oh that's too late," Alexis said incredulously.  "I had mine potty-trained when he was 6 weeks old."

I waited for the punch line but instead she went one.  "Yeah, I just lifted him over the seat and there he went."

No kidding, lady, I'd probably lose my s*** too if you were hovering me naked over a giant bowl of water, I thought. 

I was just reeling from that image when Alexis went on.  "I actually wore diapers for a while, too," Alexis said matter of factly.

WTF, I thought.

"Oh, you mean after you had your kids?  I totally understand that," I said, thinking she meant she lost some bladder control after giving birth - a reality I know all too well.

"No," she laughed, "it was just easier than getting up to go at night," she said.  She laughed again and I just laughed with her.  What else can you do when a beautiful, elegant and feminine woman admits that she wore adult diapers for a while just because?  Actually, it made me like her more.  

After the dye had been applied, Alexis left and I was once again playing with my phone trying to get it to connect (and trying to ignore my growing thirst.  I realized I could've asked for a bottle of water or something, I but I didn't want to bother her.  And besides, let's face it, this is Supercuts, not Paul Mitchell.)  

James' customer was just about finished.  As he put the last touches on the boy's hair, I could hear their conversation again.

"And then I was kicked in the neck at daycare..." the boy said.  Poor James.  He seems like such a nice man, and this kid is throwing conversational curveballs.  

When Alexis finally returned, it was time to wash the dye out.  Originally she had said something about the color being a mix between violet and orange.  I didn't exactly know what that meant, but I was looking forward to something bold and zany.

As she began drying my hair, it was actually a much softer dark brownish red.  It made my eyes pop a bit more and it looked much more natural.  

Then it was onto the cut.  Alexis sprayed my hair to dampen in again and as she did so, the pores of my skin opened up to quickly soak up the water droplets.  I was so thirsty that those quick sprays felt like refreshing ocean spritzes and I tried desperately to get a few drops in my mouth without her noticing.

At last my phone connected enough that I could pull up a few photos to show her.  The specific ones I was showing her were from season 6 of Sex and the City, in which Carrie tried to take care of Mr. Big after his heart condition.  The shorter length and bouncier curls looked like a perfect blend of pretty and functional.

Alexis looked at the picture.  "Yeah, you could do that.  But just keep in mind- her hair IS probably styled to look that 'effortless'," she warned.  "And that would mean losing all this hair," she said this while holding a good-sized chunk of my hair in her hands.  I gulped a little.

Well, I'm already here.  And a new, fresh, haircut will look nice with my newly dyed hair.  In for a penny...I thought again.

I told her to go for it.  She said she was going to keep a lot of the length but as I felt my hair getting lighter and lighter, I realized there was more than just a few inches of hair on the ground.  Oh, god...I worried.  What did I do?  Did I really want this?

I had taken my glasses off to avoid getting dye on them but when I finally put them back on and saw myself, I smiled.

I looked....pretty.  I don't usually use that word to describe myself.  But the shorter hair did feel bouncy and light.  And my hair color, now one nice unified shade, made my eyes stand out more.  

I looked pretty and I felt pretty.  

So all in all, despite the weirdness of the tale, this awkward ugly duckling became a beautiful platypus in the end.  

At least for now ;)

*Cue "Kiss Me" by Six Pence None the Richer*




How about you?  Ever have that transformational experience at a salon?