“Look at all this hair!”
“Have you SEEN so much hair?”
“It’s so incredibly thick.”
“It’s really pretty.”
“Yes, pretty, but I imagine it takes a lot of work.”
I sat in the chair at Regis Hair Salon while my hairdresser and her hairdresser friend spoke about my hair as if I weren’t even there.
A part of me wanted to clear my throat and remind them that hello, the thick hair had an owner.
I was enjoying some Kid Free time as I got my hair done. In fact, I was enjoying a Kid Free couple of hours with my friend Amanda. I had left the kids with my husband Tom and was enjoying being able to sit for five minutes without having to get up and break up a fight or find someone a snack. It was bliss.
Well, aside from the fact that people were behaving like I wasn’t actually there.
“I wonder how long it takes to wash?” my hairdresser mused.
“About twenty minutes,” I spoke up.
Both hairdressers startled as though they had forgotten that I was sitting less than two feet from them.
“SO much hair!” my hairdresser’s friend said.
This is when I felt the urge to be snarky and be all, “SO much blonde!” because she happened to have a head full of (fake) blond hair. I didn’t though. I bit my tongue.
My hair took about three hours to do. But I didn’t mind. I was able to read my book in peace ( The Lady in the Tower about Anne Boleyn) and sip on an iced tea from Chick-Fil-A without having to share with my daughter.
After the hair appointment, Amanda and I went to get our makeup done. Neither of us knows what we’re doing with makeup. I nearly took my eye out with mascara before and have been slightly traumatized by it.
“How do you want your makeup?” the lady chirped at us.
“Natural. Please don’t make us look like tarts,” I explained.
We wanted to be made up for the Girls Night In we were having over at Amanda’s house.
So our makeup was put on. We did not look like tarts.
Then I returned home and wasn’t sure how the house would look. Things could be flying through the air. Food could be smeared on the walls. I placed my hand on the knob, turned it and....
....the house was clean?
The children were still alive.
“I cleaned!” Tom said proudly. “I don’t know why you say it’s so hard to stay at home. It was easy for me.”
Yes, it took all of my strength not to smack him on the side of my head with my purse. Of course the children are good for him! He’s big and scary and loves Chuck Norris.
“I like your hair,” Tom continued. “Wanna go upstairs and christen it?” He came over and pulled me close.
“Sure, but just so you know it’s my time of the month.”
He dropped me like I was on fire. He won’t touch me during that time.
Sometimes I’ve been known to lie and say that it’s my time of month if I’m not in the mood. It’s probably why he believes that some women can have periods for two weeks.
Later that night, I got dressed to go to Amanda’s house.
I tried to take a photo myself because Tom can't take a decent photo of me to save his life.
Apparently I can't get a good photo either. But you get the idea.
Then I went to Amanda’s house where we played Wii Dance.
I learned that I still CANNOT dance.
I looked as though I was having a convulsion as I tried to copy the moves. At one point I nearly hit myself in the head with the Wii Remote. I’ll probably give myself a concussion one day and when I’m wheeled into the ER I’ll be all, “All I was doing was trying to copy some dance moves!”
Hi, I’m Amber and I can’t dance.