Run!!

....continued from last blog.



As the door swung open, I wasn't quite sure how to process the image that was before me.  There were so many things to look at.

So while I digested everything, I did what I always do in awkward situations.  And I smiled a smile that was WAY bigger than anyone's smile should EVER be.  Like....a sort of psychotic smile....where my eyebrows go up SUPER high (almost touching my hairline) and my face gets minimized to pretty much only a giant mouth and teeth.  Kind of like when they put a human mouth on an animal and make them talk on super hilarious YouTube videos.   

At the current moment, I'm completely OBSESSED with watching talking meerkats on YouTube.  I am sure that there is nothing quite as ridiculous looking as a super cute little mongoose that is having a conversation with another mongoose using his giant human mouth.  


In that moment, when my new hairdresser had opened the door.......I had transformed into one of those ridiculous looking meerkats.  


But with outgrown roots.


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"Hiiiii!!  I'm Pam!!  C'mon in!!"


Ok, by now you MUST be wondering what this hairdresser looked like.

WELL FOLKS......let me just tell you what Pam looked like.

Enjoy :)




Pam was about 50 years old.  


Pam had pitch black hair down past her waist, with a thick bang across her eyes.  


Pam was SUPER tanned and had tons of makeup on.


Pam had a MASSIVE tattoo that spanned across her entire back, over her shoulder and down her right breast...... which I might add, was MASSIVE!  (so was the other one).


And Pam was wearing a black lace tank top and super tight hot-pink bootie shorts that left VERY little to the imagination.


Pam........ was somethin' else!!


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As she welcomed me into her home, and down the stairs into a dark and unfinished basement where her salon "apparently" was, I thought 2 things to myself:

#1)  Pam seemed pretty nice.

#2)  Murderers could also seem pretty nice.



She led me to the middle of the basement and opened up a set of sheets for me to walk through.......which I believe were the "doors" of the salon.  I found myself saying thank you to her as she held the sheets away from my face.  I didn't want to be rude after all.


As I stepped into the "salon", I soon realized that IT was something else as well ...... just like Pam.

The chair which I sat down in was just a regular wooden kitchen chair.  The table which housed her hair utensils was an old kid's wooden desk that looked very similar to the one I had when I was 8 years old.  But it had an old vase on it filled with fake, dusty sunflowers.  And there was an old tube TV in the corner which was on and was very loudly playing some TV show about teenagers.  I wanted to ask Pam to switch the station to a show that starred actors that were closer to my age......but I somehow felt that Pam liked this show because she thought she was in fact, a teenager.


And last but not least, there was a waiting room.

Well.....sort of.


Off to the side of the "salon" were 4 chairs against the basement wall.

Each seat with a customer on it.

Four giant stuffed animals in total.


I was almost 100% certain that I would be murdered tonight.


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As Pam worked on my hair, I noticed that she was asking many questions about how my former hairdresser used to bleach it.

I tried to stay calm, even though I started realizing that Pam may not know about bleach as much as she TOLD me she knew about bleach.

Aside:  Bleaching a woman's hair is nothing like dying a woman's hair.  The process is very different, very intricate, very time-sensitive and very particular.  One wrong application, or toner left on one minute too long, and your hair could turn all sorts of colours of the rainbow. Many hairdressers claim they know how to bleach someone's hair platinum blonde.....but only the BEST truly know how.  And depending on which hairdresser you get, you either end up looking like Gwen Stefani.......or a troll doll.  I became slightly worried that I would end up looking like the latter......

Once the bleach had been applied to my roots, I found Pam looking slightly fidgety and nervous.  

She seemed to be talking a lot faster, panicking slightly, and then a little while later, urged me to go to the sink so that she could wash off everything off.  

The sink, which I stuck my head into, was a small bucket in her laundry sink.  Which was in her laundry room.  Which was in between the washer and dryer.....which had a load going in it.  You have NO CLUE how hard it was for me not to roll my eyes during all of this.

I nearly died when she bragged that the bucket that my head was in was something she picked up at the local pet store......"for only $10!!  can you believe it!??"

She went on and on about the pet store bucket as she applied the toner and massaged it into my hair.

I tuned her out and tried to go to my happy place, when suddenly I realized that it had been a few minutes that Pam had not said a word.


Aside:  EVERY platinum girl knows that when your hairdresser suddenly goes dead silent in the middle of your toning process, something is NOT good.....


"Hmmmm."  Pam whispered.

I ignored her.


"Well, THIS is interesting....." she said slightly louder.


Again I ignored her......hoping that this was all a bad dream.


"THIS .....is.....interestinggggggg......."  she said again.


I finally piped up.


"Everything ok up there Pam??"  I said already knowing that the answer was a big fat NO.


She answered slowly, "it's just that......I've never seen it go this colour before.  It's just....weird...."


This back and forth discussion between Pam and I went on for about 10 minutes until Pam finally let me sit up and walk back into the sheet room.   I mean, "salon". Dammit!!


I took a deep breath as I approached the kid's desk.  I closed my eyes, slowly sat down, and then opened them.



But to my surprise my hair was perfect!  

A gorgeous platinum white hue with a slight cool undertone.  It was amazing.

The End!  :) 





NO.  IT WASN'T!!!!!

IT WASN'T PERFECT.  IT WASN'T AMAZING.  AND IT WASN'T PLATINUM.

IT WAS HALF YELLOW, HALF WHITE AND HALF BLUE.

I was officially the poster child for bad hair.



As I processed the image that I saw before me in the mirror (in essence, a wildly-coloured cartoon), Pam went on and on saying that she didn't know what had happened.

She kept talking and explaining about how sorry she was and how this had never happened to her before...... but I had already mentally checked out.  

And I couldn't get out of that basement/salon ANY faster.

Pam tried to convince me to stay so that she could fix my Katy Perry do by putting more bleach on it, but I was already standing up and ripping off the gown.

Then she asked if I still wanted a haircut.  

I backed away quickly, nervously smiling and bumping into the teenage TV and stuffies while politely saying that I had to leave.

As I jumped up the stairs (2 at a time), Pam ran behind me saying "Do you mind if we show my husband your hair??  He loves to see my work!"

I figured, why not!?  He'd probably think it looked amazing.

"STEVE!!!  COME SEE MY LATEST CLIENT!!"  Pam yelled to her husband at the top of her lungs.


And just when things couldn't get any worse, a very sketchy, skinny, drugged up looking fellow stood up off the couch and slowly sauntered towards the front door.

'Steve' looked me up and down while grinning, and in a slow rumble he said, "Woahhhhhh.  Nice".

I'm pretty certain that Steve didn't even look at my hair at all.


That was it.  

I was DONE!

I said goodbye, left her money, and BOLTED out of there.


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When I got home,  and after a GIANT glass of red wine, I called my old hairdresser and told her everything that had happened.

She was mortified and ordered that I come in right after work the next day so that she could squeeze me in to fix the colour.


And the next day after my hair was restored to its gorgeous all-over platinum hue, and my hairdresser and I had a huge laugh about my experience,  I felt like I could finally breathe again.




Now......perhaps you may be thinking that I'm being slightly dramatic about all of this.


But if you think that, then I absolutely MUST remind you again.  That if a woman does not feel good, then she does not look good.  And if she does not LOOK good, then she does not feel good. 


And at the end of the day, if a woman does not feel her absolute best, then I give you but only one piece of advice.  



RUN!!!