She has gorgeous long sandy-blonde hair with soft curls in it. Viewed from the back, she could be a young 25 year old babe. But when she turns around, the illusion is gone. She's closer to my age (Like Voldomort, I shall not say the....age)
But that's not why she irritated me yesterday evening. I go in for my haircut, and yes, I only want her to do it. Not the other two girls (her daughters) who have an open seat.
So I wait and wait and wait. Even with an appointment (i hate that so much). Surely they saw it on my face. I was about to lose it (only in my mind, talking trash) then the girl before me said, "You can go before me."
What? I got lucky? Yes!
So I sit and wait for Letty to set up her tools and she looks at me and does this "Tsk tsk, your hair is so long.
Why do you not come more often?" So disapproving of me as if I am lazy or cheap. WHATEVER!!!!!
Uhmmm I would go more often if it wasn't a torturous wait for her. I mean sometimes I have to sit over an hour listening to novellas blaring on two televisions with an almost spanish speaking based clients. It's also a very small place.
Why don't I go somewhere else for a trim? I have tried many salons. She's just the first person who understands what a trim is, not five inches, not give me a totally new style, coming out with bangs when my fat face cannot handle bangs. I go to her because she is the first hairdresser in the past decade that hasn't made me cry because they butchered my hair. So in three months, I will think about getting my hair cut again, and dreading the adventure....so then it eventually becomes another 3 months... Then I will have Letty's disapproving, "Tsk Tsk," all over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment