As you know, I’m normally a “say what you see” kinda’ gal. I have no embarrassment with being honest (Hubby gets embarrassed for me I’m sure) but when I cross over a hairdressers threshold this all goes out the window. It’s super fun for me, as you can imagine.
For example, yesterday when I was getting my hair washed and was asked “how is the water temperature?”, my mouth said “fine thanks” but my head was saying “it’d be perfect if I was doing the ice bucket challenge”.
When it got to the the head massage portion of the shampooing, I was asked about the pressure. “It’s great thanks”, I replied. Great if the aim is to peel my scalp off slowly and painfully. “My eyes are watering due to tears of joy because this is all so relaxing, honestly”.
It seems I’m still crippled by a strange hold a salon has on me. I feel for the girls, I mean surely if I replied truthfully they wouldn’t be offended, they’d just adjust what they were doing accordingly. But no. I just can’t do it.
Nevertheless, I was again happy with the result. I’ve been living under a top knot since the girls have learnt how to grab and hang onto my hair like they’re monkeys using it as a vine. I went a bit shorter, but not too short because I’m one of those people who do that kind of thing and immediately see someone with long hair and then spend the next two years growing it out. Fun times.
And I think that’s about as adventurous as my weekend got, but it was a good one all the same. How was yours?