Ellen Gets a Haircut

So I followed Marcia's lead and got my hair cut at a West County Spa and Salon. Bear in mind, I've been seeing Sue for over a quarter of a century. No more Sue, though. Now for something completely different.

"Steve will be right with you. Would you like some wine?"
"No." (Word count: 1)

Steve arrived and sat me down on a pneumatic chair in front of a full length mirror. Evidently this is his station. He cuts the hair here in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Because, you have to cut the hair so it is in proportion with the whole person? I don't know. I decide to go on a diet because I don't recognize the woman I see in the mirror.

Then, Steve asked me to take off my clothes. Evidently, this is what they do. I imagine the Day-Glo green sweater I was wearing may have distracted Steve, and he must have a blank palette, to style the hairs into a work of art. I look trimmer in the smock than in the sweater, so this is good.

We moved to the shampoo area and Steve washed my hair in front of a wall-sized water sculpture. What does this take, five minutes? After fifteen minutes my head was a raisin. Then he started on the massage. He started rubbing in circles on top of my head.  I tried to signal to Steve, "I Do Not Like the Massage" by frowning, but then it become all about the ears. As if he was trying to gently wear two holes in my skull so my ears would conveniently drop right off. Then he would have a nice symmetrical ball over which to sculpt his hair sculpture. After twenty ear rotations I said:

"Steve. Dude. Seriously, you have to stop that." (Word count: 8 + 1 (see above) = 9)
"Oh! Okay, I can stop."

He started toweling off my head and because at this time I was really afraid I was in for a sensual scented towel hair follicle abrasion treatment, I grabbed the towel and rubbed it on my head. As if to say, "See? This is how we do it. This is how you dry a head."

I was seated again at the wall-sized Mirror.  I just closed my eyes. And I listened to Steve as he snipped every single hair individually. It usually takes fifteen minutes to wash and cut my hair. I could not look at the clock mounted to the top of the Mirror Wall O' Sadism because I would have to open my eyes, but I estimate he was cutting for half an hour.

We had a brief chat.
"How long have you known Marcia?"
"Oh. Eleven years?" (Word count: 9 +3 = 11) I would tell you his expression but my eyes were squeezed shut.

After the half-hour hair cut, Steve dried my hair. He straightened it, which was refreshing, because Sue always had fun piling it up in little curls that I knew would not fit in with my morning beauty regimen. My hair, being fine, dries in (don't hate me) five minutes.

So Steve got out a round brush and a blow dryer and dried my hair. And after that, Steve dried my hair. He followed that up with drying my hair. Then , because he had spun me away from the Mirror, I had opened my eyes and was staring at him blankly. With the face. The face that silenty says: "Dude, what the Hell?" He shut off the blow dryer and explained to me that he was just going to finish drying my hair and put on some hair product. Then before I could answer he turned on the blow dryer and, I swear to you, dried my hair. I shut my eyes and worried how awful my hair must look that he would keep stalling this way. Finally I thought, Steve, no matter how much you dry it it won't magically fall into place. I looked at him again.

"Steve. It's dry. It doesn't get any drier than this." (Word count: 11+10 (10! I was warming up to Steve) = 21)
"Almost done!" Steve said.

He'd been doing all kinds of ornate brush curling and organizing and then he finished up with a big scribbly blast all over my head. Because, he said, he didn't want it to look too "styled."

Then, he put some product on his fingertips and futzed over every single hair. I think he twisted wax on to the end of every strand individually. This took fifteen minutes.

"Okay!" he cried, and spun me around to face to the Mirror. Now, instead of seeing a fat middle-aged, fuzzy-haired woman I didn't recognize, I saw a fat, middle-aged, shiny-haired woman I really didn't recognize. My hair, I tell you, had changed colors. One strand was red, one strand was, brown, one was reddish-brown, one was almost black ... it was cool! It was sleek! It was freaking reflective.

"Whoa!" (Word count: 21+1=22)

So, sure it cost three times what Sue charged, and it took four times as long, but after it was over I made another appointment. For a cut and color. I'll probably have to pack a toothbrush.

Comments

[robin]

You HAVE to stop by tomorrow so we can all OOOH and AHHH.

BTW, was Steve HOT like Marcia said?

[TheQueen]

Or, I can take a photo, because I'm sure it will last longer.
See:
http://mocklog.typepad.com/photos/muster/p4040011.jpg

[catherine the red]

Cool. Very excited to see the 'do.

[KC]

You have gorgeous hair! Next time you see Steve, ask him what is the best way to grow out hair. My hair looks like shite, but I want it to grow out. I'm too old to wear barettes or headbands. There must be a way to make it through the horrible growing out process. He sounds like just the man who would know how!

[Caroline]

Awesome hair! Next time keep your eyes open and try to figure out how he's doing it.

[Becs]

Whoa, it does look nice - that "I'll just go frolic in the breeze and get slightly mussy" look. I hate you.

No, seriously, I hate having my hair messed with. Herschel is trained. No more than five minutes with the blow dryer. No product. Ever. I'm glad I can't afford highlights anymore - it took hours. Jesus Christ, it's just hair.

[Karaoke Diva]

PICTURES?!?!?!

[Karaoke Diva]

Never mind. I'm an idiot who didn't read the comments.

[Catherine (redheaded one)]

Whoa. that is cool hair. go back to him. i should go to him.

[TheQueen]

Thank God I took a photo; it doesn't look like that at all now.

[TasterSpoon]

I always worry that too much blowing and styling is a sign they're disguising an inferior haircut and that after I wash all the product out the left side will be two inches longer than the right side, which will have layers. Your hair looks really great, though!

I actually love the head massage when I go someplace fancy. Sometimes they even sneak their fingers all the way down to your neck, which is a bonus, except that you then have conditioner in your shirt.

I try to limit the convo by studying a magazine intently, but it only takes about ten minutes to digest a(n) US Weekly, so if the haircut lasts longer than that I'm screwed.

[Erin]

Okay, you lost me at "No".

[TheQueen]

Hell, I'm getting the wine next time. Eighty bucks for a haircut? Better include a good glass of wine. And I don't even like wine.

[Friend #3]

I should have known the head massage might be a flop with you, Ms Don't-Touch-Me. That massage is the best part of the shampoo -- it's worth the big bucks just for that alone.

Next time I'll ask him to give me the massage you rejected. Philistine.

[humincat]

I laughed until I cried, thanks.

[TheQueen]

Friend #3 - I can tell you store all your tension in your ears.
Humincat - You win the award for most cryptic screen name - hummin' cat? Humi and Cat? And hey, thanks for crying.