…Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Streaming, flaxen, waxen…
I was reading this post, which got me to thinking about all the jobs I’ve had. One I’ve had off and on is a Salon Coordinator. Looks like a fancy way to say receptionist, but there is so much more involved. A brief description, a Salon Coordinator is:
- A Receptionist
- A Schedule Fixer
- A Complaint Box
- An Office Assistant
- Data Entry
- A Personal Assistant
- Coat Check
- A Soother of Feelings
- A Passer-On of Compliments
- A Peeker into the Happiest Days of days
- A First Class Viewer of Change
The salon I work at is Impulse Hair Studio & Day Spa. This is also where I get my hair done, my pedicures, my massages. Going to the salon for a service as an employee or just as a client is always a positive experience.
All of that made me think about the history of my hair. The good, the bad, the U-G-L-Y! My hair has been long, medium length, short, and boy short. My hair has been colored, permed, & straightened. Some of these processes were salon created, some were home services.
My thoughts on hair…it’s just hair. If you don’t like the cut, grow it out or get it re-cut. If you don’t like the color…re-color it. There has only been one time in my long history of hair that I have ever cried about it. Once I a received an old-lady hair cut. I mean OLD-lady, all I needed were some curlers and blue-tint to finish it off. Needless to say I was unable to style my hair in an attractive way and I had a wedding to go to the same day…I cried. Now this was years ago before Impulse. Before I knew years of good hair styles & color.
I love getting my hair done. I love trusting in my Designer to pick just the right color and cut for me. I love being surprised when the chair is turned to the mirror.
I love getting my hair washed; leaning back into the washbowl, the hands through my hair, the scalp massage. Then moving to the Designers chair and the rhythmic snip…snip…snip of scissors confidently shaping my hair into something fabulous. Next the whirl of the hair dryer, the slight clack of the flat-iron, the “pshhhhh” of the hair spray. Finally, the “reveal moment.” Looking in the mirror to see me, but not me. The face in the mirror is mine, the hair belongs to some fashionista in a magazine.
A good hair day, means a good day. A fresh Color-Cut-Style day, instills nothing but confidence. When my hair looks good I stand a little taller, feel a little…sassy, I feel beautiful. It makes me wish everyday was a good hair day, most days are…just okay…and if I could manage it, I would have my hair washed & styled EVERY day.
My history of hair (in no particular order):