Meet Karlee, my hairdresser (she’s the one wearing a low cut top ;) and moi, (the dumpy one with grey hair :)
So here’s the story.
I’d been so busy that I hadn’t had my hair cut for far too long and it was flat and very drab looking. When I booked an appointment with my stylist Karlee, I couldn’t get in until 8:00 pm, and apparently she goes into overdrive at night. Argh.
It all started out fine, I really like her and trust her (mostly). But I could tell she was a bit more hyper than usual and that’s OK – she’s quite fun. Well, I made the suggestion that maybe we could change my style up a bit let’s cut one side shorter than the other side! you’ve seen those styles, right? And it wasn’t much of a change since my hair is mostly short anyway.
She was ALL for it. And so it began. My heart pounds to think of it.
Are other people as timid as I am when it comes to getting their hair cut? I swear I’d rather be at the dentist.
I’m going to use the razor tonight she says.
OK, she’s done that before. All the while she is joking around with the other stylist, talking about her ex, her friends, her cousins and how she loves to have a glass of wine (tee hee) but it sure makes work the next day hard . . . gulp.
Barb! how are ya doin?
Oh, fine I manage to squeak out as my hair is flying left, right, and centre.
I usually don’t get worried, but when I start to notice rooster tails well, that’s cause for concern. My heart started pounding and I’m thinking what am I going to do?
At that point she pulls out the texturing scissors … omg I’m feeling a bit green and manage to mutter uumm, Karlee I think it’s short enough. But inside I’m screaming PLEASE STOP!
Oh, not yet, miss Barbara . . . I am not finished with you she screams (or did I imagine that?)
Oh, the horror, I cannot go on . . .
to be continued . . .