“She what??” I furiously texted my sister back as we sat in our own individual cars parked side-by-side. “What do you mean she double-booked?”
My sister and I had been dreaming about this day for some a long time now. After a year and a half, we were finally getting our haircuts! Those of us in Canada are just beginning to get back into the swing of things- with caution, of course. We were so ready to say goodbye to dull scissors, shaggy dos and lopsided bangs. We even set our alarms, woke up early and made sure our husbands were available to mind the children so we could sneak off for some much-needed me time.
We had arrived at the salon and parked ourselves out front. “Ugh, she said she forgot and booked someone else at the same time but if we wanted to, we could wait a bit.”
I could tell from my sister’s text she would’ve waited forever for this hair appointment. My sister had escaped the shackles of her prison and desperately needed a break, and we both longed to look like ourselves again. Luckily, ‘forever’ wasn’t in our cards. The hairdresser called back and told my sister she could come up in 20 minutes and I could follow 10 minutes later. Hallelujah!
A little while later, I sat down and leaned back as the stylist began washing my hair. It felt familiar and bizarre at the same time. Bizarre because were these chairs always this uncomfortable? The only thing that kept me from getting up abruptly was knowing I was only going to be there for one wash cycle. Just when I thought the chair was the worst of it, an eagle landed on my head and started sharpening its talons against my skull- at least that’s what it freakin’ felt like when the stylist started shampooing my hair! It had been so long since someone else had washed my hair, I honestly didn’t know what to make of it. I either thoroughly enjoyed it or I am quite possibly scarred for eternity. At one point, if I closed my eyes, I could envision the large bird of prey giving me one last kick in the head before gently helping me up from the
chair torture chamber. I think it’s safe to say, as a general public, our haircutting standards have plummeted drastically during this pandemic. I’d take a kick in the head by the damn eagle a thousand times over if it meant my husband didn’t have to cut my hair with his trembling hands and wavering eyesight again.
How about you, have you experienced any pre-pandemic normalcy yet? What was that like?
*This was inspired by Jim Borden’s funny post of his own visit to the hairdresser.
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