I have hairy children.
It may be because I am fairly hairy myself.
Both the boys came out of the womb with a full head of hair, which never fell out and just kept growing.
I cut cj's hair the first time when he was about eight months old, and I have been trimming it ever since.
But, truth be told, cutting hair is not really my strong suit.
So, we took both boys to the barber shop a few weeks ago for a trim for zj and for cj's first big boy haircut.
RJ and zj have been going to the same barbershop for years. So of course, that's where we took cj, too.
I sat in the barber chair and held him. The wife of zj's regular barber was scheduled to cut cj's hair. His cut went off without a hitch. He was patient, and good, and she was great with him. And somehow, as I was sitting there holding cj for his haircut, she started messing with my hair. Before I knew it, she had flatironed me. The next thing that I knew, she was lecturing me about how it was a bad idea to buy your shampoo the same place you bought your groceries. She is sort of loud, and very opinionated, and vaguely scary. By the time I woke up, I had an appointment scheduled for the following week for what she called "The Works." Whatever that might mean. She told me in no uncertain terms that I was to call at least a day in advance if I needed to reschedule (canceling was not mentioned as an option) as she was going to block out most of the day for me. According to her "we had a lot of work to do."
I went to my scheduled appointment
Gulp.
She immediately started showing me some hair colors in a magazine. As I tentatively pointed out a couple I liked, she said things like "No, too light" or "No, too dark" or sometimes just "No"with no explanation. Finally she sighed dramatically, grabbed the magazines out of my hand, and said "You just sit here. I'll figure something out."
Ummm, ok?
She chose a color for me - "Don't worry. It will look dark at first. It will lighten up in a couple of weeks. You will like it." As the color was marinating, she spun my chair around, laid it back, and said "Now, time to work on those brows."
Ummm, ok?
"You wear them natural" - a statement, not a question. "Ummm, yes?" I answered, not though my answer really held any weight.
As she began to work on my face, she started pointing out a few other things to me as well. "Your mustache needs some work." "Ummm, ok?" "And your chin." "Ummm, ok?" She proceeded to wax my entire face. As she was pouring hot wax on my eyelids, I gasped, "I didn't know people had hair on their eyelids." "You do" was the response.
Ummm, ok?
Anyway, waxing complete, hair rinsed, we moved on to the cut.
After asking me several questions about my hair - bangs, stacks, a-lines, and a bunch of other hair terms I could only barely grasp - she once again proceeded to do exactly what she wanted.
A quick dry and flatiron later - "You MUST go buy a flatiron today." "Yes, ma'am." - she allowed me to put on my glasses and see the finished product.
And...
I loved it.
My hair looks healthy and shiny and smooth and better than it has in many, many years.
I love it.
As I was leaving, she took my phone number. "Just in case you forget to call and make an appointment," she warned.
But I will call.
I can't wait till the next time she
She is scary, and she is awesome.
I love her.
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