Hasty Judgments

So, the girls that I rarely mingle with here, only because they seem to have their own clique, paid me a very nice compliment on my hair coloring. There was talk of it glistening in the sunlight and the rainbow of colors you can see. Evident in their commenting, I quickly realized my hair had been discussed at some length prior to our conversation. When they inquired as to where I went to get my hair done, and I stammered out another city that is six to seven hours away, they commented, "Are you joking with us?" For some reason, as soon as I have to answer such a question, I suddenly feel to need to start defending myself for the absurdity of driving so far for something as simple as hair care.

I have lived in Memphis for more than twenty years of my life. As a child, I had very straight hair, which I, of course, wanted permed. After ten or so years of perming, I became determined to make it past the dreadful growing out of my said perm, only to discover puberty had changed my hair to curls. So when straight was cool, my hair wasn't. After years of physically straightening my hair, I realize it just takes a lot more time. So, when I began paying for haircuts, I didn't think I should have to leave the salon embarrassed of my frizzy, wavy hair. Every one of my hairdressers would say they had cut the "weight" off of my hair, and that was simply as straight as it was going to get, which was bullshit.

When I went to Las Vegas, I decided to get a fancy, high-dollar hair cut in the Bellagio hotel. Of course, I had a wonderfully gay, talented hairdresser, and immediately swore an oath to honor him. He managed to straighten my hair better than I could and then remarked, "It's really not that curly." I was so impressed, I scheduled a hair color the next day just to have it styled again.

I traveled to Columbus, GA a few years back, and flew out of Atlanta. When I went to Lenox Mall, I eyed what would become my new salon. On my next trip back to Atlanta, I made a point to try it out. To my amazement, I learned the difference in a good haircut and a great haircut. After two trips, I found my magician, and her partner in crime, my colorist. My girls are best friends, roommates, and they work together. I love them dearly, and I make four to five trips yearly to see them. I think they have finally learned who I am, and two trips back, we discussed that I'm a rarely good tipper. Each time I go, I try to bring a friend with me to experience the place. I always tell them it's a little higher priced, and then I have to prepare them that I usually tip about fifty dollars to the three people that work on my hair. I tip them well because they do such a fabulous job. I think their creative talents shine through tremendously well, and for that, they should be appreciated.

So, all of this is to say that when people compliment my hair, it means so much to me. I can honestly say that I've had at least fifty compliments on my cut and/color since I've been going to my tag team, even one at a drive through. And yes, it's expensive & difficult to get there, but it makes me feel really good, and I get positive feedback. I see no downside to it.


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