murky instincts. . . or how i became a strawberry blonde

recently i found myself at a hair salon. i was in need of a haircut- serious need. you see, when my hair starts to bug me, i reach for the scissors myself, and while it might tame me for a little while, it never does my hair much good. it continues to grow out in an annoying manner.

i mentioned that i wanted to go full out to swon- new style, a professional color. i’ve always colored it on my own and thought it would be neat to let someone else do it. . . maybe go hog wild and get some of these highlights i keep hearing about.

swon says she knows someone good. so she makes an appointment for me and another friend, hazel. when i see swon i think, man, she has a great cut, i’m glad to be checking out her hairstylist. then we actually get to the salon.

my other friend is seated and swon and i race out for some street food. everyone is starving. when we get back we meet the stylist doubled over in agony on the waiting area couch. she started cutting my other friend’s hair but had to stop because of the pain. it continued so swon decided to run her out to a hospital.

i let hazel know that she might as well relax for a while. in fact, we sat down and started in on the topokki. like i said, we were starving. when swon and the stylist got back, nearly an hour later, the stylist said she was feeling much better, but not well enough to continue. we all sat around and ate for a while.

we made appointments for the next day, even though it was an hour and a half commute.

they were cancelled. she was still not well, we were both a little glad to get to sleep in and hoped she would feel better next weekend.

we made appointments for the next weekend.

12pm was our appointment time. we were there and seated. and seated. . . and seated. the walk-ins were taken care of, and we weren’t seen till almost 2pm.

i remember explaining to hazel that i’m really bad at knowing when to walk away. there we were, after a week of waiting- we were still waiting. i really wanted to trust in swon’s judgment, but there had been so many obstacles in getting to the actual cut and style. i’m pretty good at knowing when i’m pushing too hard for something, but the more i push, the more i want the end result i expected. i’m not willing to just walk away.

possibly, this is a talent i should learn. . . soon.

hazel’s cut from the week before needed some work. the cut turned out fine, but her dye job was too light for her liking. she ended up returning a couple of weeks later to get it darkened.

the one thing that made her laugh all day, when she was upset at the price ($180- a discount down from $250?!), upset at the color, upset at the wasted time. . . was my hair.

granted, the stylist said she hadn’t worked on westerner’s hair much. . . but i’m figuring. . . it’s just hair. the cut i got is pretty great. i’m a fan of it.

she asked me if she could chemically straighten my hair, then put a wave in it to control the curls. the idea sounded nice. . . but with coloring, and the time slipping by, and the idea of my hair falling out from chemical over-treatment. . . i skipped those steps. (i think my wallet was glad as well in retrospect.)

she said she wanted to lighten my hair. ok, i said. . . but not too light. something on the auburn scale.

then i smelled the bleach. ok, i’ve done that before as well. . .and maybe these will be some cool highlights.

the bleach is washed out and i have fun picture messaging a friend that i’m a temporary blonde. . . oh, if only i knew then. . . .

then another dye job. i’m told i needed it because the contrast between my color and the bleached areas was too great. DUH! i’m a dark brunette. . . you just dyed sections of my hair blonde.

the dye is rinsed out. . . then i’m styled. and from everything i can see. . . i am strawberry blonde.

i am stunned.

she assures me how beautiful it is, and how popular this look is with the foreigners right now. she has other customers tell me how great it looks.

like i said, i like the cut. . . but the color is a little beyond.

we pay. . . again, we are a little shocked at the price. we meet up with a third friend for lunch. . . and much laughter over my hair. we consider going back to make a fuss.

i understand wanting to make a fuss. . . but to me, what’s done is done.
i probably should’ve walked away when i thought about it.
besides, i don’t really want to go back to get my hair retouched by someone who has already disappointed me. is there going to be another gotten from arguing with her. . . especially since i really can’t argue in her language?

so, my hair is considerably lighter than i would’ve ever dared.

my students say things like, ‘erika teacher, you have gold hair.’. . . and ‘beethoven teacher,’ or ‘mozart teacher.’ this one took me longer to figure out, apparently, when someone has short kinda crazy curly hair, it’s known as a beethoven or mozart style. took me over a week to ask around since for the first week, with the accent and all, i thought they were calling me ‘batman teacher.’ i knew that one didn’t make much sense.

all in all. . . not terrible. wish it hadn’t cost so much in time and money. . . and the color will probably grow out awkwardly. . . but there are much worse things. at the very least it kept three of us giggling to tears for a whole afternoon.

now. . . where to do some training in reading one’s instincts and appropriate response behavior.