Colour, cut, high lights, straightening–I got the full meal deal and then some.
This intense level of beautification isn’t for the faint of heart. My appointment started at 10:30 and I didn’t get out of the salon until about 1:40! Afterwards I was exhausted–fit for nothing more than lounging with a cup of tea and a novel. I don’t know how the stylists do it.
I’m not one for small talk so after our initial hello-s, my stylist got down to the nitty gritty while I immersed myself in gossip magazines.
Soon after my arrival, a high school girl took up residence in the chair next to mine. She was one of those bubbly, chatty people I admire.
She talked about her yearbook photo (“awful!”), her graduation dress (“strapless cream satin–like a wedding dress, but cuter!”) and her part time job at a t-shirt shop (“I love it when we get people with funny accents!”)
Her cell phone rang: “Yah…No, probably just hanging out at home tonight…Oooh–I’m so hung over today…You, too? Oh my God! Ha ha! We’re both hung over!…Okay, bye, Mom.”
Bye, Mom! What???
Sometimes I feel like the mom that time forgot.
At first I think it’s the generation gap rearing its grizzled head. Back in my day, high school kids (at least the ones I knew) didn’t complain to their parents about the severity of their hang overs. And if a parent suspected their teenager of illegal, underage drinking, they certainly didn’t commiserate about their own hang overs.
Then I realize the mom on the phone is probably about my age so I can’t even blame a generation gap.
I’m just uncool.
And I’m okay with that.