I might be the only girl in the world that hasn't been to a hair salon in nearly a decade. But what might be even more shocking is that the last time I had my hair blown dry or fully brushed when wet, um or dry, was around that same time.
But the other day I met up with Selene in what I thought was going to be a few minutes of chit chat, next thing I knew my butt was in a chair and my head in a sink as "gloss" and "tint" were applied to my locks. Then, as if I had entered some sort of twilight zone, the lovely stylists at Ted Gibson took to my head with a brush and giant hair dryer.
I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit. The touching! The prodding! And was in a little panic, laughing like a fool with severe anxiety the whole time. I left that place looking like I was headed to a red carpet event - gone were my split ends and messy tresses. What had taken over was something along the lines of shine filled beauty.
But the strangest part was walking down the street the next day with my straight, brown hair - people noticed.
I now understand why a girl would own a hair dyer. And a brush! And I kinda now understand why salons are always packed on Friday nights with girls getting "blow outs" before dates.
But I still don't understand how one could put up with being touched and yanked so much, all in the name of a little prettier hair. fascinating...