Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Spa Day

I am so of the opinion that blonds have more fun.  But because I'm a) a natural mousy brunette and b) fairly practical and can only handle soooooo much I go for the blond highlights.  It's the perfect combination of *fun* and *serious* which absolutely goes with my whole secretary/librarian/teacher look.  I can't help it.  It's just the way I look, so I work it.

The problem with having blond highlights when you're naturally dark is that you really have to invest a whole lotta time/money to keep it looking natural (hahaha).  Upon my return to work after a week away, my friend/co-worker/boss took one look at my roots and said, "Wow.  When you go on vacation, you really let yourself go, don't you?"  Yes, it was that bad.  But today was the earliest I could go in to get them touched up.

I'm having such a horrible time finding a good hairdresser or stylist, I guess they're called these days (kinda like the whole stewardess vs. flight attendant debate).  I found this really cheap Asian man who was really very good.  The only problem is....he never gave me what I asked for.  I would tell him I wanted a lot of really blond highlights and he would say, "Oh, that take too much time.  I do this.  You really, really like this."  And he was right.  I always liked it.  It was just never, ever what I asked for.  So last time I went to this new place just down the street from my house.  She seemed to be really knowledgeable, and they were using this new product that didn't bleach your hair, but got the same results, so I was super stoked about not ruining my hair.  The problem was that I walked out of there with 1 inch roots.  This was really very frustrating, seeing as how I walked in with maybe 2 1/2 inch roots.  I didn't want any roots, which if you've never dyed your hair before, is kind of the idea...

So, today I went to a new place in hopes that I had finally found the one to make me look fabulous.  After waiting 45 minutes to get in, they got me ready for my cut.  Yes, you heard right on both accounts.  45 minute wait and a cut.  Uh no.  I need highlights.  And seeing as how we've wasted 45 minutes, you have to do it very quickly, because I cannot be late for work.  I thought it was really very simple.  All highlights, blond, blond, dark brown, blond, blond, dark brown.  This works really well, because it helps to blend the dark roots, keeps the blond, and is pretty fast.  Instead, "Grace" (have you noticed I use people's real name when I'm mad at them???) decides to do the bleach highlights and then dyes the whole rest of my head a dark brown.  Sigh...I only needed my roots done, people.  This isn't rocket science.  

By the time she gets to the all over colour, she is frantically trying to save time by slapping the colour on where ever it may land.  This included my hand, neck and face.  I don't know about you, but I'm not particularly fond of brown streaks down the side of my face, narrowly missing my right eye.  Did I mention they were running 45 minutes late because the woman before me had an allergic reaction to the dye and her face swelled to twice it's original size???    Then she let me sit for another 45 minutes while she dyed someone else's hair.  Oh my goodness, can you spell livid?  What kind of Mickey Mouse operation is this, people?

Not to mention, getting your hair done is supposed to be a euphoric sort of spa experience.  They play nice music, use yummy smelling products that you want to buy (or maybe that's just me...) and you talk about things like how cute Brad Pitt is and wouldn't you love to be in Paris with Johnny Depp.  Grace has not learned this technique because I know now that she just had a complete hysterectomy because they found stage one cancer in her fallopian tubes.  Shockingly, she hadn't had a pap in 19 years, and after menopause she kept bleeding, like super heavy.  Who knew it would be cancer?  They're just waiting for the results to see if she needs chemo and radiation.  On a more positive note,  her alcoholic hubby left her with three small children and no money.  She had to move from Vancouver to Surrey because she couldn't afford to live in Vancouver anymore.  But it was just a relief that she wasn't with an alcoholic anymore.

By this time, the toner was being applied and we couldn't wait the full 20 minutes for it to set because it was now 2:30pm and I had to be at work in a little over an hour.  My right foot tapped uncontrollably as I tried to look like I was not the least bit in a hurry.  She quickly rinsed my hair after 10 minutes, brushed it quickly, I paid my $200.00 and left with sopping wet hair. 

Did you catch that part?

The part where I said it cost $200.00. 

Because where I come from $200.00 is highway robbery, especially when you have to wait 45 minutes to get in for your appointment.  No cut, no blow dry, no straightening, no calm relaxing this-is-all-about-you experience.

To top it off, it's brassy.  I don't want brassy.  I don't like brassy.  I didn't pay $200.00 to look like a two-bit hooker who dyed her hair using Clairol nice and easy.  No offence to any of you who use Clairol nice and easy...

I was 10 minutes late for work.  I didn't get to stop and grab my Caramel Latte, and I did not come to work feeling restful and calm.  I bit my co-worker's head off in the first 5 minutes I arrived, and he's still looking at me a little warily. 

My lesson is this:  If you call a hair salon and they can fit you in the next day at the exact time that you need, it's probably because they have no clients because they suck at what they do.  Next time, C, how 'bout planning in advance and find a reputable place, where they won't mix up *foils* with *cut* because I know they look pretty similar on paper, but they're really quite different in actuality (whooo, how's that for a run on sentence.  Nothing like anger to ignite run on sentences.)

My other lesson is: Never trust men who wear white shoes.  Trust them even less when they also wear a white belt and white shoes.  I know it's completely irrelevant to my spa day, but I think it's really very important to get that out there. 

Consider it a free public service announcement from yours truly.

1 comment:

  1. My Godness, what an ordeal you've been through. I thought I had problems finding a hairdresser here but you beat me.