Now for the story:
On the way down to the salon, I was fretting about the whole idea of going there. I am always sure I will walk in to a place and the receptionist and the stylist will go (sniff) (tsk) well, we see what we can do....
I'm always sure they think I am a big clod and they are just going to humor me long enough to randomly run scissors through my hair and collect some cash.
"I always feel so intimidated." I sadly said.
Laura looked at me and said: "Mom. YOU have a Master's degree, and have raised two successful children. You have grown up in a very exclusive community, and are married to a successful man. THEY have gone to BEAUTY COLLEGE. That's it...beauty college."
My "Christians must be humble" mantra sometimes works against me. I always feel like everyone is thinking I am a peon, and unworthy of good service. The fact that I often get remarkably bad service tends to confirm this viewpoint.
I was quiet for a bit, then said: "What I really wish would happen is I would walk into a salon, and the stylist would look at me and say 'You look fabulous. Gorgeous. You really don't need anything done. You look great just the way you are."
Daydreams and fantasies are fun, right?
So we get there, and are directed to our locker rooms, and handed bathrobes, flip flops, and a facial top (a white cotton knitted skirt like thing, to wear over the top of our bodies under the robe.) My facial top looks ratty, and is would fit a refrigerator. It is so big I can't keep it up over my breasts.
I call to Laura and ask her to help me. She comes over and says something like "This is all wrong" and calls for the attendant. The attendant announces that they only have short tops left that won't work on us. Laura hands me her top and tells the lady to get the short one then, because this big top won't work.
I would have just limped along holding the tent up with one hand. The "too short" one fits Laura just fine.
Note to self: Stop being so wimpy.
The facial was great, save for the fact that the table was so short my feet hung off the edge and so my legs fell asleep. Laura scrunched up on another bed for her facial.
I'm not sure complaining would have changed anything there.
I requested 15 minutes between the facial and the hair cut to re-apply the make up. Instead I was immediately greeted by my hairdresser, When I explained what I was doing, she said to take my time. Then she then disappeared for a half hour, leaving me to wander about the spa asking for help to find where I was to get my hair done.
Laura was already getting her hair washed when I at last found my way to the salon part of the Spa. A young man who looked exactly like Marc Anthony (Jennifer Lopez's husband) came over to talk with me, and to tell me he was preparing to do her hair. He asked me who was doing mine, and I told him I didn't know. He asked what I wanted done, and again I said I wasn't sure. Except that I wanted to look better and younger.
He then said: You know, it isn't the cut or the style that makes you beautiful. It is 100% your attitude. If you think you look great then you will look great. It is as simple as that.
I asked him about bangs, citing the magazine article. He said: Magazines and books change monthly to sell their products. What makes you feel good is the important thing.
Another woman employee came up to me at this point. She said she wanted to tell me how gorgeous my hair was. And to find out what spa service I was waiting for. I told her to get my hair cut. She said "Why? You hair is already gorgeous."
Isn't that incredible?
Laura came up then and said that the facial lady kept talking about how gorgeous I was.
Then I finally got waved over by my own stylist. She said "Your hair is so beautiful, so striking and dramatic. I noticed you when you came in, and then again when you went through to the locker room. I really like it. What are you considering doing to it?"
I showed her the pictures that I had created and asked her what she thought. She explained why she didn't think they would be an improvement. I told her mostly I disliked my hair being caught up in my collars, and being messy in the back. And tending to part in the back, showing too much pink scalp.
She pointed to her own scalp and said that is normal, but if there was a bit more layers in the back the hair wouldn't split apart in chunks. That maybe just a bit shorter, and some layers around the face would soften the look, and be less likely to get messed up.
We talked about putting in low lights. She asked me when I stopped coloring my hair blond. I told her I have never colored my hair. She showed me that a part of my hair is still golden blond while the rest has turned ash blond. What can I say...that is just what it is doing.
She said isn't funny the things our bodies do as we get older. I had to agree. Maybe later I will get low lights put in, just a few, to add some depth of color to all this whiteness.
As she styled my hair we talked about how it feels to have daughters who are turning thirty. About how we look the best right now that we will ever look in many ways.
I liked how I looked before. I like how the hair cut looks now.
And I really like that my fantasy dream for once really came true.
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Frank Sinatra Jr. and his wife were there at the spa while we were. Laura's stylist shared this with her. Laura shot back "One of my patients SANG with Frank Sinatra. I win."
How did I manage to raise such a self assured daughter anyway?
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Two people (employees) stopped and gaped at us and exclaimed "You are SO TALL! You are really TALL! I am so short, but you are TALL!"
Laura and I managed to not go off on either of them. I do plan to tell the management to caution their staff about that "compliment" when I write an evaluation of them.
Laura didn't think her hair cut was all that great. But here she is:
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Added bonus material: If Lovella is brave enough to do this, so am I.
I'm thinking cello? Vase? With a touch of pear?
I'll have to get the book tomorrow to be sure.