I haven't been taking care of my hair and feel like it shows so I decided I should start going to a stylist again since it's obvious I don't want to deal with it myself. I've been searching for a while and then saw an older, super fly woman whose hair was stunning in a casual, simple, super healthy way.
So I asked her if she got her hair done in the area and she told me yes, she's been going to the same guy for over 20 years.
She gave me his number and I called him. He was exceedingly pleasant on the phone and asked me some questions and we scheduled a consultation. Before the consultation, I washed my hair and air dried it so he could see it exactly as it is.
A big, huge, mess.
I walked in and he was sitting down looking at his phone. He looked up at me intently and stared for a few minutes and then smiled standing up his eyes on my hair.
He introduced himself and sat me down, removing my headband and delving into the mess on my head.
He was silent for quite some time as he sectioned my hair with his fingers and moved it this a'way and that'a'way.
I looked in the mirror and saw myself back sitting on the floor of our kitchen between my mother's legs as she did my weekly Saturday night hot comb press for church Sunday morning.
He didn't say nothing.
I didn't say nothing. And I really mean NUTTIN.
Then he started firing questions at me.
And I answered them.
Not once did I get annoyed even though it was obvious he wasn't happy with my answers.
Dude was pursed lips proper 'bout his hair business.
Then he sat down again and I spun around in my chair to face him sitting up straight. He contemplated me. Took in my t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. My puffy thug vest. Head-to-toe perusal.
Him: You have beautiful hair but you know you've messed it up right?
Me: Well it's not that...
Him: You've messed it up. That box color you're putting on it just sits on it so it's lifeless. You have breakage in the areas you keep those headbands and ponytail holders.
He looked at my pointedly.
Him: But all is not lost because your scalp is very healthy. It's going to take time and patience...but I think we can work together.
Me: Um...okay. What are we going to do?
Him: Come see me Saturday and we'll start then.
Me: I'm not comfortable with a cut from a new stylist right off the bat. I've had bad experiences doing that.
Him: Did I say anything about a cut? No. I know what you want and I know what we need to do to get there. We'll start Saturday.
Me: Are you going to tell me what we're going to do?
Him: Well...we're NOT going to use chemicals on your hair for a long, long time for starters. We're going to focus on it looking presentable while getting it back healthy. I'll think about it more and know what we're going to do by Saturday.
He started packing his bag.
I took that as a signal that I'd been dismissed.
When I left I got in the truck where The Robinator was waiting on me.
Robinator: How'd it go?
Me: I was fussed at, interviewed and then...dismissed.
Robinator: So it didn't go well?
Me: Apparently it went well...he told me to come back Saturday.
He stared at me, opened his mouth and closed it choosing to say nuttin'.
This is going to be instrastin.
When I'm depressed I neglect my hair. Robby says he picked up on that a long time ago.
Do you do the same? When you're depressed...what is the most notable change about you?