The Hairy Truth

It’s so easy to take someone who’s been in your life for a while for granted. To begin to wonder what it’d be like to be with someone else. Usually, almost immediately, you regret such transgressions.

Sometimes you admit it to the person you have betrayed. Sometimes you omit it, which is just as bad.  You pray that he or she doesn’t directly ask you because you wouldn’t be able to lie then, but until they do, you just omit with bated breath.

Yes, you’re reading all of this right. I’m a cheater.

I’ve been in a long-term relationship with my hair stylist, Miss A, since I was 14. FOURTEEN. I’m 27. That’s almost half my life.

My stylist with her own beautiful, long, curly hair was the first one to teach me how to tame my own locks. More than that, she taught me to embrace the curl.

I have followed her to three different salons, she did my hair for my prom, she was the first one to straighten my hair for me. She’s colored, weaved, relaxed and chopped. 

When I was going to college in California, I would schedule appointments with her when I would be home for the holidays or summer. 800 miles isn’t too far to go for a hair appointment, right?  In a pinch, I tried out other stylists in California, but none measured up.

I was quite happy to move home, more so because I moved to an apartment two miles from Miss A’s salon.

Yet, even though she is so close now (now more like 20 miles), I’ve strayed. My mom tried to get me to her stylist…a girl with my same name who talked to me about vampire books while dying my hair an AWFUL shade of purpley reddish-brown. Yes, it was all those colors and it was awful.

That’s when I made my vow to not ever dye my hair again and to never trust anyone with my hair but Miss A. Of course, I broke both of those promises.

The dye was a post-breakup decision that resulted in RED tips. I only had one friend true enough to mention it and I’m assuming it was because it was so awful no one else wanted to lie to me.  I damaged my hair further by Googling how to get rid of semi-perm dye faster.  Don’t do it. 

Morehairdramalater…I broke my no other stylist rule when my new gym waved their fancy salon and ridiculously cheap intro prices in my face. She wasn’t terrible, but I missed Miss A. So, now I’m going back to her and I already feel at ease.

The catalyst being…A. my habitual desire to warm up and darken my hair in the fall (even though it’s so not fall in Arizona) and B. awful pictures from a weekend trip that showed me what my hair actually looks like. It’s time to fix this ish stat.

Isn’t it nice to have someone who understands you? Miss A is like an old friend who I haven’t talked to in a while, but we can always pick up where we left off. I called her up to make the appointment and she instinctively knew exactly how long my hair is and even though I’d forgotten what my natural color even is, she remembered and assured me we’d get it to the right shade and not damage my hair any further. Ahh. 

When I go to the appointment, she will know how to cut my hair without me having to explain the different curl patterns.  She’s the one who first explained them to me after all.

So, here, on my lovely little blog, I’m admitting that not only am I a cheater (but that Miss A will love me and take me back anyway) but that I’m officially giving up on one of my 101 in 1001 goals to not dye my hair.

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One thought on “The Hairy Truth

  1. Pingback: Women and Hair « The Next Moment

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