I’ve been dumped.
Yes, I will admit, I have been avoiding speaking of this subject and curse myself for being so naive, for ignoring the signs...But disheveled and 5 months pregnant, I sit and stare out the window today wondering, “Why?”
My husband came home that sunny spring afternoon just 5 short months ago and with a cheerful smile, handed me a few business cards.
What type of business cards might you ask? A lawyer? A marriage counselor?
No. He placed three cards from my hair salon on the kitchen counter, each with several names - none of which were my stylist.
“What is this?” I asked in a confused, yet hesitant tone. I had been in this situation before and realized the room had started to spin. Was it my morning sickness or something more?
Not forewarned by the stylist or the salon, the “referral” names laughed at me from their pale blue font.
“What? WHAT?! This is insanity!” I exclaimed, disbelief oozing out of my mouth like, I don’t know, too much foamy toothpaste.
“It’s no problem,” my husband said, scratching his freshly cut hair, taunting me really, knowing he had just received something I would never know again. A decent hair cut.
Yes, I am dramatic. Yes, I am a high maintenance client. But only because I like to change my style and color every few months and refuse to conform to a normal 30-year-old hairdo.
You see, I came face to face with perfection 4 years ago. I witnessed my hair doing things and holding styles I never knew my little fine strands were capable of.
Why? Because I had an amazing stylist.
I had just moved to Milwaukee and was in desperate need of a cut. Afraid to pick any old salon off the street, I longed for something edgy, a place where I could leave my 30-something mom-look behind.
Staggering through the local mall, I searched the crowds of people for cute cuts. I needed a referral, and I needed it bad.
As I breezed by the MAC counter ready to abandon my campaign, my eye caught a glimpse of a lovely fresh face with flawless bangs! Always forward, I approached this young siren and discovered she was a stylist at a salon called, Stella's.
One business card later and I was on a 2 year honeymoon of being a stylish suburban mother.
You don’t understand, Andrea had the skill of a seasoned celebrity stylist! My hair looked amazing for well over 2 months after a cut and the grow out stage was unbelievable. With no awkward phase in sight, my hair ingeniously transformed from pixie to a shoulder length style with magical ease!
Getting to the root of the perfection was my stylist, Andrea. You see, my appointments were more than just going in and getting my hair cut. I feel like Andrea actually knew my hair and wasn’t afraid to play around with it. She listened to what I liked and did not like and went with her gut.
Andrea taught me that...
1. Round brushes are from the devil, at least for my hair. Year after year I left salons all poufed up with a mushroom-like bouffant. A flat brush goes a long way for a smooth and polished look.
2. Short hair is not mom hair. Not when you have the right cut.
3. Investing in a flatiron is a purchase you will never regret.
4. Don’t be afraid to go light in the winter months and dark in the summer. Break from convention!
Easily bored with my mop, Andrea never let me think I was annoying her with my new ideas. Her imagination and skill created styles I never knew possible. She never tried to make my hair do something it couldn't and if I suggested a crazy style/color, she told me I was crazy and would say NO. She wasn’t just there to collect a tip and round in the next customer.
Yes, she probably thought I was crazy with my endless printouts and magazine cut-outs of celebrity hair, but did she scoff?
Never. I really believe she wanted me to leave her chair beautiful.
So, what happened?
I moved back to Chicago.
I thought about bribing her to move, but I have yet to publish my best-selling novel and 20 bucks to relocate just for one client was a joke.
So here I sit with frizzed out ends no amount of leave-in conditioner can repair. I’ve been straightening my wavy locks, trying new clips and almost ready to start tying dramatic scarves around my lifeless style.
All because I don't want to start the process of finding a new stylist. Honestly, I would rather break in a new therapist!
Have you come face-to-face with hair perfection?