Many years ago I went to a hairstylist in my town that I adored. I started going to her right after she and her friend opened their little salon. It was so cute and the hair girls were so much fun. We would laugh it up the entire time I was in there. We’d talk about music, shopping, small-town living, and anything else we could think of. We got pregnant around the same time and had even more to talk about. Usually when you’re getting your hair done, you shut up while the hair dryer is on. Not in this case. We’d talk LOUDER so we could still hear each other. It became normal that my throat would hurt when I left the salon.
Suddenly, their salon got so busy that I just couldn’t get in on Saturdays, the only day EN is around to watch the girls. I moved on to the hair girl I had until divorcing her a few months ago. Of COURSE I didn’t divorce her to her face, but did so via blogging… which she doesn’t read. http://bucketofice.blogspot.com/2011/08/divorcing-hair-girl.html . The day before my last appointment with her, I simply called and canceled. I hemmed and hawed through a lame-ass excuse and sounded like a dope, but the break was clean.
Several weeks later, I have roots longer than highlights and my bangs hang in my eyes like a scraggly dog. I look stunning. I have several issues, I like the basic color that Divorced has been doing, not crazy for the cut… Also, in the days of hoarding money, I do not want to spend a bazillion dollars to look good. I also don’t want to go to some new chick and say, “I want to look good, but I currently don’t want to spend jack shit.”
After thinking about it for a good long time, all while NOT trimming my own bangs (WOOT!), I bit the bullet yesterday and called the girl I used to see. I felt like I was calling an ex and begging for a reconciliation. Of course she was with a customer and would need to call me back. Just when I had given up hope, she called me an hour and a half later. I started with, “You probably don’t even remember me…” and she said, “Of course I do!!!” That was it, game on. We laughed it up something fierce. We talked about our kids, caught up on our lives, discussed which concerts we had seen recently and who loves Bret Michaels more. Oh yeah and I gave her the basic idea of what I needed done to my hair.
Will wonders ever cease? She has an opening this Saturday at 3:00. It was meant to be. Fate. Kismet. Good karma… I said, “WHAT? You are always booked?” She said, “I guess I just got to be too busy on Saturdays and lots of people left like you did.” I was sure to say, “See, it was your fault then.” Brave comment, given that she’s going to be working on my head with scissors and hair dye on Saturday. We were so crazy on the phone that Sugar said, “Who was that?” when I hung up, obviously embarrassed by her mother’s behavior.
It’s with great excitement that I head off tomorrow afternoon to see Gretchen. In fact, I’m so excited about seeing her, I sent her a friend request on Facebook. I’d be withholding information if I didn’t say that I really sent that invitation just to prove that I have in fact actually touched Bret Michaels.
Reunited and it feels so good!