The transition from working girl to welfare queen forced many changes for me. Salon haircuts were one of the first casualties of my austerity budget, and it's been quite a comedown. The chic little storefront has been supplanted by a suburban strip mall, designer robes by tatty nylon smocks, hushed elegance by cacophonous din. "Would you like some herbal tea?" has given way to "NEXT!"
Yesterday I went to the beauty parlor for my monthly rinse-and-set (actually the $14 basic coif at the local Hair Cuttery). I must have been distracted by the cascade of clippings, which at this point seem more salt than pepper, because the result looked OK when I was prompted to give a nod of approval.
An hour later, when I glanced in a mirror at home, there was no denying the ugly truth. I'd been given the Hair Butchery special: the little-retarded-boy cut. Not the dreaded salad-bowl 'do, but the one where the hair is cut in a straight line over the forehead. The kind of haircut your mother might give you in the kitchen, only my mom was never that cheap or that mean.
I like to say that vanity is the first casualty of ALS, but I must have a little left or I wouldn't be burning with shame today. I'm tempted to grab a pair of scissors and go at these bangs myself. With my shaky hands, I'd probably lose an eye, but at least then I wouldn't have to avoid mirrors.
5 comments:
I've found that a carfully placed turban does WONDERS to cover any mistakes when I come home in horror from the local "Curl-Up and Dye"
will we be seeing this new 'do at the walk on sunday? don't fix it! don't fix it!!
Not like going to see George at his lovely salon? I am sure it is just fine and if not hair at least grows! I am sure you look lovely!
Michael have you considered the "Big Daddy-'do". Next time you visit I'll shave your head for less than $14!
Bob is a good name for an aspiring hairdresser. So is Pageboy.
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