Pumpkins & Candy Corn Hair
Halloween. Always reminds me of candy corn. I don't like it. It brings back memories of a hairdo gone wrong.
I had a wild hair years ago and decided to get a new doo. That sounds normal. Unfortunately, I had a spontaneous moment and picked a salon at random. Really. This is why I have stories to tell. I don't always function well mentally.
"HI!" The too bubbly salon greeter shouts at me.
"I want a cut and color" I said with confidence.
"Do you have an appointment" Ms. Bubbly says. She's too excited. This is a sign I missed. There's not many clients in this joint.
"Do you have an appointment" Ms. Bubbly says. She's too excited. This is a sign I missed. There's not many clients in this joint.
One stylist is available. His name is probably Maurice, but I will call him Sas Quatch. He is so hairy that hair is protruding from his shirt. He looks like he's wearing a faux carpet on his chest. I wonder why he doesn't use his talent on himself. He's a bit sweaty. All those are signs. They say follow your intuition. I didn't.
Sas Quatch has a nasal voice. "Is that what you want?"
He's pointing at the pic I chose in a magazine. It's a hair brushed celebrity with a smart funky cut.
"Yep, and I want a different color for the fall...pretty auburn with a few light streaks here and there."
I'm thinking this is going well. I smile.
Sas disappears to blend the magical color that will sit on my head. I feel good. A new me is about to emerge. He's back. Goodness he sweats a lot.
I feel his big paws working on my hair. I'm expecting grunts but can't hear any. I'm looking at a magazine. Drop. What's up with that? Another drop. It splashes on my glossy mag. I give a side glance towards Sas and there's pearl size sweat all over his forehead. He keeps wiping himself. I feel myself gagging. He's dropping sweat bullets all over my paper.
I'm having to concentrate so that I don't lose my lunch. Run. I can't. I have chemicals on my head. Relax.
Sas is finished with the color and puts me under the dryer. I bathe in relief as sweaty pants moves away from me. I curse myself for thinking that I'm a cool spontaneous chick. Never again.
I'm hoping that Sas Quatch Sweaty Pants will have to leave for a minor emergency. Nothing serious. May be just a tiny reaction from the hair dye he put on my head. He's itchy like hell and can't do my hair anymore. Nope, he's back and his carpeted chest looks damp. I'm stuck.
He takes the foils out and washes my hair. What is usually a pleasant experience sends me into a panic attack. Oh, please, please, please don't get sweat on me. Drip. I dare to say in a loud voice "I have a neck issue and can't stay in this position very long."
"Oh hon, it won't be much longer, you poor thing." Darn. I should of told him that I can only be in that position for a minute or else I go into convulsions.
I reluctantly go back to his station. Gee, that's funny, my hair isn't dry yet but it sure looks unusually bright. I'm holding the picture of the doo I want with high hopes of looking fresh and spunky.
He's snipping away and I have to dodge his sweat drops. I am in a numb zone so that I don't focus on his body issues. Oh wow....that piece of hair he just cut doesn't look right. I'm starting to look like I have lice and someone without a hair licence got a hold of my head. It's choppy.
Drying my hair is next. I'm in a shock. I stare at myself in the mirror in pure horror. Where am I in that reflection? There's no doubt in my mind. I look like a bright orange orangutan. If that's not enough, an orangutan with a bad hairdo that his unskilled buddy did while drinking too many beers.
I'm speechless. Sas Quatch is all smiles. "Looks great huh!". I stumble out of my chair in a daze and mumble "hat....need hat now".
I drive home sobbing. I know the local circus would hire me on the spot. I run and hide inside my home. I immediately put a hat on.
"How bad can it be?" said my friend on the phone. "I'm coming over" she declares.
I take the hat off. See. My friend explodes with laughter. She snorts. She holds her ribs. She can't speak. She's on the floor. I want to snap her little head off her shoulders.
"Oh wow, that is sooooo bad!"
"Gee, thanks" I'm not happy.
"Holy cow" and then she says what I didn't want to hear. "You look like candy corn for Halloween". I look in the mirror and dang it she's right. I'm staring at bright orange hair with uneven streaks of white and yellow strands. It's not much better than looking like a orangutan.
"Perfect for Halloween" she says. She's proud of herself and I don't like her right now.
I have not eaten candy since the incident, but I do feel some kind of bonding with orangutans.
Happy Halloween
Sas Quatch has a nasal voice. "Is that what you want?"
He's pointing at the pic I chose in a magazine. It's a hair brushed celebrity with a smart funky cut.
"Yep, and I want a different color for the fall...pretty auburn with a few light streaks here and there."
I'm thinking this is going well. I smile.
Sas disappears to blend the magical color that will sit on my head. I feel good. A new me is about to emerge. He's back. Goodness he sweats a lot.
I feel his big paws working on my hair. I'm expecting grunts but can't hear any. I'm looking at a magazine. Drop. What's up with that? Another drop. It splashes on my glossy mag. I give a side glance towards Sas and there's pearl size sweat all over his forehead. He keeps wiping himself. I feel myself gagging. He's dropping sweat bullets all over my paper.
I'm having to concentrate so that I don't lose my lunch. Run. I can't. I have chemicals on my head. Relax.
Sas is finished with the color and puts me under the dryer. I bathe in relief as sweaty pants moves away from me. I curse myself for thinking that I'm a cool spontaneous chick. Never again.
I'm hoping that Sas Quatch Sweaty Pants will have to leave for a minor emergency. Nothing serious. May be just a tiny reaction from the hair dye he put on my head. He's itchy like hell and can't do my hair anymore. Nope, he's back and his carpeted chest looks damp. I'm stuck.
He takes the foils out and washes my hair. What is usually a pleasant experience sends me into a panic attack. Oh, please, please, please don't get sweat on me. Drip. I dare to say in a loud voice "I have a neck issue and can't stay in this position very long."
"Oh hon, it won't be much longer, you poor thing." Darn. I should of told him that I can only be in that position for a minute or else I go into convulsions.
I reluctantly go back to his station. Gee, that's funny, my hair isn't dry yet but it sure looks unusually bright. I'm holding the picture of the doo I want with high hopes of looking fresh and spunky.
He's snipping away and I have to dodge his sweat drops. I am in a numb zone so that I don't focus on his body issues. Oh wow....that piece of hair he just cut doesn't look right. I'm starting to look like I have lice and someone without a hair licence got a hold of my head. It's choppy.
Drying my hair is next. I'm in a shock. I stare at myself in the mirror in pure horror. Where am I in that reflection? There's no doubt in my mind. I look like a bright orange orangutan. If that's not enough, an orangutan with a bad hairdo that his unskilled buddy did while drinking too many beers.
I'm speechless. Sas Quatch is all smiles. "Looks great huh!". I stumble out of my chair in a daze and mumble "hat....need hat now".
I drive home sobbing. I know the local circus would hire me on the spot. I run and hide inside my home. I immediately put a hat on.
"How bad can it be?" said my friend on the phone. "I'm coming over" she declares.
I take the hat off. See. My friend explodes with laughter. She snorts. She holds her ribs. She can't speak. She's on the floor. I want to snap her little head off her shoulders.
"Oh wow, that is sooooo bad!"
"Gee, thanks" I'm not happy.
"Holy cow" and then she says what I didn't want to hear. "You look like candy corn for Halloween". I look in the mirror and dang it she's right. I'm staring at bright orange hair with uneven streaks of white and yellow strands. It's not much better than looking like a orangutan.
"Perfect for Halloween" she says. She's proud of herself and I don't like her right now.
I have not eaten candy since the incident, but I do feel some kind of bonding with orangutans.
Happy Halloween
