Distracted By Something Shiny

...scribblings of random musings...

Friday, February 10, 2006

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, while I initially put my blackjack winnings from yesterday in my little personal fun fund--a few bucks stashed away for *me* - not bills, not groceries, but something for myself--it didn't take me but a few hours to realize that I wanted to get my hair done. After all, I hadn't gotten it highlighted since June, and my last cut was back in September or something. I was due. And, again, since I start my new job on Monday, I suddenly wanted to get it done quickly.

I called KRA Salon--the place where I've been getting my hair cut & colored for the past couple years--three times this morning before giving up and going to the back-up Zip Zap Hair--the place of my last haircut. Could they fit me in today? Yes? Excellent. Two hours later I arrived.

I must admit I was a pretty antisocial customer. Almost immediately after sitting down I pulled out my book--The Devil Wears Prada--and started reading. The only conversation I had with my male stylist (whose name I wasn't really sure of--I could have sworn the receptionist on the phone told me my appointment was with "Jane") was about what I was hoping to accomplish with my visit. So I told him I wanted to get blonde highlights, and that every time I get them I never seem to think they're bright enough. Okay, and he suggested doing two different tones of highlights, and got to work. And I read.

Part of me felt guilty. I mean, shouldn't I be all gossipy and talkative during my visit to a salon? But I quickly got over that guilt. I wasn't feeling particularly social, I didn't know this guy, and I was really enjoying my book. So the introvert in me took over.

Finally, after at least an hour and a half, he rinsed out the highlights and put me back in my chair. And I was freaked out at first--it didn't look any lighter at all. But once he started drying it, I did notice that it had lightened up. Though I think it may only be noticeable in bright light. Oh well. I really need to stop expecting my hair to be as light as Scarlett Johansson's or Gwen Stefani's when it's wet...or dry. It ain't gonna happen.

Oh, and my stylist? Turns out his name is James. Apparently I'm hard of hearing.


  • At 12:57 PM, Blogger bee said…

    I always feel the need to be all chatty when I'm getting my hair done, but don't really want to be, y'know? I think I'll take a cue from you and just bring a book next time. :)


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