Ode to my Hairdresser
IÂm so glad that I found a true artist to do my hair.
Someone whose need to quench her creative thirst outweighs what I want, what looks good on my face, whatÂs appropriate for my hair type, and common sense.
YouÂre not just someone who does what I ask. No, thatÂs not for you, youÂre not a lemming.
Even when you promise to, and repeat back verbatim my simple instructions before wielding your scissors on me. No, thatÂs not for you. Satisfying the customerÂthatÂs for professionals. YouÂre not a professional. YouÂre much better than that. YouÂre an artist.
YouÂre so full of yourself that you didnÂt bother to even apologize for shearing most of my hair off despite a clear instruction not to. Your desires are more important than me, I know.
IÂll be thinking of you fondly every time I try to style this cut that is inappropriate for my hair type and face shape.
IÂll be thinking of you fondly when I go and buy $100 worth of new products and styling implements. You so kindly didnÂt bother to instruct me on what to purchase and how to use to handle this monstrosity you created. Thanks.
IÂll be thinking of you fondly every time my neck freezes in the frigid wind.
IÂll be thinking of you fondly every time I walk by a mirror and recoil in horror.
IÂll be thinking of you fondly when I need every bit of self-confidence I have, and find it lackingÂespecially when I have to give speeches, teach classes, and attend holiday parties looking like a hairless little boy.
And I was thinking of you with the same fondness when I spent two days weeping after our interlude.
IÂm so glad you didnÂt concern yourself with the petty details of what the customer wanted, and werenÂt even the slightest bit apologetic afterwards.
It will only take 8 months to undo what you did, and itÂs my head you screwed with.