It’s therapy, it’s girl time, it’s laughter
It’s not just a hair cut.
It’s a mood-enhancing activity on my calendar, and I look forward to it.
I don’t know about you, but for me, a hair appointment is a lot more than just “getting my ears lowered” or “taking a little off the top” as they used to say.
It’s girl time.
And yes, it’s a new do. Or at least a rejuvenated one.
I like to tell my hair girl the truth — I need some “sassie hair.”
We laugh at the request. Actually, we laugh at just about everything, having a good old giggle fest, but truth is she understands me and pencils me in for an appointment in spite of that.
That’s the beauty of having someone cut your hair who knows you and how daring yet dull you are when it comes to what style and color and highlights you’ll try.
Oh, sure, sometimes I look through those books they have in hair salons, most of their pages not really filled with very practical styles or colors.
They don’t really have a look for a 60s chick like me.
I’ll threaten her, though, and claim I’m going to get this one or that one.
Sure you won’t, she humors me.
Then she cuts my hair, and I don’t have to say a thing. She knows what to do. She’s a mind reader. Or a head-of-hair reader, I guess.
She also knows when it’s time “for action.” That’s eye code after she’s conducted root inspection and notices that the gray is overpowering the highlights.
She gives me that we-better-get-busy look. We’ve got our work cut out for us, so to speak.
I’ve had a lot of do’s in my day, but I’ve gone the short-hair route for some time now, lured in by that lie that short hair is easy to take care of.
I take her to task on this misleading claim made with some credibility.
When I was growing up, for example, it was that suggestion mothers would tell their daughters when a new school year was about to start — a short haircut is a smart idea.
I told my hair girl that it’s just less hair to dry. I use just as much if not more hairspray and goo and gel and all that kind of stuff, all for the “natural” look.
And I need to get my hair cut more often. Once it grows out even a little bit, it’s like a lawn that’s missed a mowing to the tune of two or more weeks.
One day the cut is great and looking good, and then all of a sudden I wake up and swear someone’s been putting Miracle Gro in my shampoo bottle or sprinkling it on my pillow.
My hair girl is always busy. Sometimes when I come in for a hair reinvention of myself, there’s a familiar face in her styling chair. That includes this lady I know who gets a similar haircut. We laugh about being in the same hospital, only rooms apart. On the same day she was having a baby boy, I was having a baby girl 30 some years ago.
I walk in, feign jealousy and tell my hair girl, “what’s sheeeee doing here!!”
I go to the hair salon with great expectations because I know a new do restores order in my universe.
I tell my hair girl that a fresh cut is like curtains opening to a new world full of new possibilities — that I leave the old and enter the new. Tah-duh!
Even my clothes fit better.
It all works out, and if for some reason it doesn’t, Better Half always has hair wisdom to offer.
The only difference between a good haircut and a bad one, he assures, is six weeks.
Either way, like Arnold the Terminator, “I’ll be back” — for therapy, giggles and girl time.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted firstname.lastname@example.org)