This past Saturday, while getting my hair did, I received the weirdest compliment I can ever remember receiving.
Let’s track back to the beginning of it all.
I have been, for some time, debating whether I should cut my hair or allow it to grow out. You see, I have sometimish hair . . . sometimes it grows, sometimes it stalls, sometimes it’s beautiful and pleasant to work with, other times it’s a royal pain in my neck side . . . literally. But this year, I got fed-up and decided I wanted to go short again. I’ve done the pixie cut before (my Gravatar image is proof since it’s less than 2 years old), so I had no fear of the scissors or anything of the sort. But I decided to drastically cut my hair after my wedding. For my wedding however, I got a cute little angular bob cut and loved it so much I stalled the drastic cutting of my hair until the summer was in full swing.
I decided at that time, which was late June – early July, that it was indeed time to cut my hair. I was exercising frequently which caused me to sweat profusely from my head-top, not to mention the unbearable heat that causes your hair to stick to your neck-back even when you’re under the full blast of the fan. Not a nice feeling at all. So I decided then was the best time to get that cut I’ve been wanting, and postponing, and pining for.
For a while I was trying to get the girl who did the fabulous bob for my wedding to do the pixie cut for me, and after much ‘running her down’, she finally cut my hair. And it was a disaster of magnanimous proportions. I have had bad hair cuts before, I’ve even taken the scissors to my head to correct the bad cuts I’ve gotten. I’ve had bad hair dyes as well, done mostly by yours truly, but the cut I got that fateful day made me teary eyed for a couple of weeks well. And because it was unbelievably short, there was nothing I could do with it until my hair grew out.
As a result of that debacle, I decided to find another hairdresser or salon. Ladies, let me tell you – breaking up with your salon is tantamount to breaking up with a long-time boyfriend. It’s hard – letting go of the standards you became accustomed to, and trying to find some place else that can even come close to your first love. It is hard! But I found one. My girlfriends’ hairdresser gladly took me in and corrected my cut as much as she could. She saved me from a summer of hats and scarves and the possibility of finding a wig to cover it all up.
I felt the confidence I lacked when I left her salon that day. The difference a good and/or bad hair cut can do to a woman is bewildering at times, and I can fully understand the trepidation many have when cutting their hair. It’s not so much the fact that you’re parting with your hair, it’s that at any point the stylist can slip up, and leave you with the worst feeling in the world that would be on constant display.
Anyways, fast forward four weeks later . . . I went back to my new salon to schedule an appointment, and apparently one of the ladies in the salon was amazed at my hair. She asked if I was wearing a wig. A wig?! Really?! According to my stylist, my hair is so luxuriously (I threw in the luxurious) thick that it looked like a wig that day. Normally I wouldn’t have noted a compliment like that, I would have brushed it off as just someone who’s confused as to what real hair looks like. But then I remembered I met my mom for lunch a week before, and she . . . my mom, also asked if I was wearing a wig that day. My Mom! Asking me if the luxurious mane on my head handed down from her, was my own. Can you imagine?
Is that not the weirdest compliment you’ve ever heard? What was that one odd compliment you will never forget?