So I went to get my hair cut today, which is you understand a euphemism. I went to get my hair colored. The cut was an afterthought. Anyhow, I usually go Monday mornings when the kids are at the one day a week homeschool enrichment program that has sadly, oh so sadly, ended for the year. Monday mornings are quiet, nary a soul to be seen. Wednesday afternoons, on the other hand, are not quiet. People are getting their nails done, people are wandering out of the massage rooms, looking dazed, people are arriving for hair cuts. Men, women, children - the place was hopping.
So after a quick consultation, Kristi (my hair genius – whose genius has been shaky of late) gooped up my roots with hair goop and sent me to read a magazine. I was sitting there, somewhat uncomfortably, looking like Medusa among the many patrons. Now, I blame what happened next on the article I was reading. The basic premise of it seemed to be “Let’s see what happens when we send this model out to exercise in her underwear and push-up bra!” There were pictures of this woman, leaning on a passing man’s arm so she could fish a rock out of her shoe, rollerblading past a group of young men who were threatening to burst veins in their heads from the intense oogling, and heaven help us, her power walking. Which, she says, should never be done in a push up bra. Ah. Thank God I read that before planning my weekend.
So I was sitting there, thinking about how I’d die, I’d just die if I walked out my front door in my underwear. I mean, I apologize to myself if I see me in my underwear. Roller blading? Aside from the obvious abrasion risks, it would cause me to just seize and die from sheer shame.
I was pondering this when Kristi came over to do…something to my hair. I don’t know, I don’t ask. She poked at my head a bit, then turned to leave me to my magazine.
“Oh,” she said, “I spilled some stuff on your cape. Let me get a towel.” She came back with a towel and sponged off the front of the plastic clothing protective cape I was wearing. One of the drips was apparently over my right breast, and she laughed. “Sorry about feeling you up there.” She turned to walk back to her station, so I raised my voice just a bit so she could hear me. Over all the people.
“That’s ok!” I called out blithely, “it’s the most action I’ve seen in years!”
Save for the sound of heads turning.
I looked back at…everyone…searching for some addendum to my statement that would make it sound better. There didn’t seem to be one, so I buried my face in my magazine.
I guess that’ll teach me to judge the stupidity of others, huh?