The Salon

So I finally made an appointment to get my hair done. I've been pulling it back in a pony for the past month. I've been trying to grow it out but finally my roots are looking a bit on the shabby side. I even tried to cover it with a thick headband but it's just not working anymore. I'm normally on top of getting my color touched up but my last trip to the salon didn't go so great. I asked for dark red with bright red highlights. As I lifted my head from the bowl I noticed the girl across from me gasp and her eyes bulged. I took this as a bad sign and for good reason because my hair was orange. Not red but bright pumpkin orange! It took nearly 5 hours for them to fix my hair. We ended up covering it with some thick blond highlights and all and all it turned out as my hair began growing it grew into a pretty golden color. Not bad at all. I even had a guy at the grocery store tell me I looked like the "fine" news girl on channel 2. Still can't figure out what bothers me more; the fact he was missing a tooth, smelled like beer, and was sporting a mullet or the fact that this was my first compliment in ages and I was actually flattered, LOL!

You'd think this would be my worst salon experience. Not a chance. My worst salon experience was about 8 years ago. I was living in New Orleans and was trying to survive the humid summer months. I remember I was sweaty and hot when I arrived at the salon. I quickly changed into a smock and began eagerly flipping through the latest issue of People magazine. As I was reading an article my nose began twitching and sneezing. I grabbed a Kleenex from my purse and went back to reading the article. Within seconds I noticed I was getting strange glances from people walking by. Finally my hairdresser walked out from the back and began laughing. He told me to look in the mirror. I looked like Magnum PI with a thick black mustache. I was wearing mineral makeup back then and a piece must have fallen on my upper lip. When it began irritating my nose I wiped it across my upper lip with a Kleenex. I was sweaty so the black eyeliner smeared into a large thick line across my face. Not one person told me but just starred (how rude). However, I was in New Orleans; they probably thought I was in drag, LOL!