Saturday, July 12, 2008

My hair stylist, my shrink...


I went to the hairdresser (is that the PC word to use nowadays, or should I be saying hair stylist?) the other day. I don’t know why, but the minute my butt hits that chair, I seem to become someone else, someone who talks and laughs and is not evenly slightly the introverted Gill I usually am. It’s weird because it is so not me!

Yet, not all that long ago, a visit to the hairdresser made me feel the same way a trip to the gynaecologist did. (Lucy if you are reading this, please don’t laugh at me, I’m a sensitive soul!) I’d get all nervous and uptight, sweaty palmed and somewhat panic stricken. Personally, I think this strange reaction might have something to do with the invasion of my personal space, particularly by someone brandishing a pair of sharp, silver scissors. Maybe I do need to see a shrink ;-)

Then a good few years ago I found P. P was a marvellous hairdresser; he could wield a pair of scissors like a pro, he was awfully good looking in rather a grungy, bad-boy, Johnny Depp kind of way and we had this silly, harmless flirty thing going on, which was a lot of fun. P quickly became my favourite hairdresser/confidant/agony uuh Uncle? He was suitably aghast at the arrival of Rox 7 ½ weeks early, he commiserated with me over my first and then my second ectopic pregnancy and he had the exceedingly good sense to tell me I was gorgeous when I was 8 months pregnant with Paula. In short, he was a gem.

In return I was suitably aghast when P’s girl-friend discovered she was pregnant, I congratulated him on his wedding when he married her in haste, I rejoiced with him over the birth of his son and I shed bitter tears with him when his son died of a cot death at 3 months. I listened to his lamentations when he was caught in a tug of love between his wife and his Rottweiler and I made what I hope were the right noises when he subsequently chose the Rottweiler and divorced the wife. When P left to go and pack fish in Iceland I was more than a little devastated.

For a couple of years after the departure of P I was back to the “going to the gynaecologist” syndrome. It was horrible. I came to dread my 6 weekly trip to be shorn.

And then I found T. Now T and I don’t socialise outside of her salon, but if you were to peek into the salon during my 6 weekly visit you would be quite certain that we were bosom buddies. She is a marvel. She can talk 90 to the dozen, sing along to Dido, cut hair and give parenting advice all at the same time. She has reconciled herself to the fact that she will never convince me to blow dry my hair or spend more than a minute “styling” it in the morning. And she has a never ending supply of Jodi Piccoult novels which she lends to me each time I visit. Going to the hairdresser is a great deal of fun! I just hope T doesn’t decide to go and pack fish in Iceland anytime soon!

7 comments:

Lucy said...

haha GIll!!! I would never laugh AT you!
I love your comparrison of going to the hairstylist with going to the gyno! too cute! I totally get that people get uncomfortable, that's why when you DO find someone like T and P. You stick with them till death or in p.'s case... they disappear.
He sounded like a gem and a cute one too! wow, too bad. But, how lucky to already have found another great stylist... i hope she sticks around for you, but if not... I'm far away, but I'm here for you ( hey .. and I ALSO give away books AND lend dvds to my clients!! not to mention all the snacks we share ) ♥ this post

Sanni said...

*G* Well... I'm in need of a good gyn - I'd even travel to South Africa to "visit" him.

So... if you'll ever find one, please let me know :-)

Sanni

Simone said...

The one thing I hate about moving is that each time hairdressors get more expensive and less friendly. It worse still when they move.

I had a great hairdressor in Heidelberg and for about a year and half in Somerset West (she moved).

I have only had one gynae I liked and it was the 6 months we were in Port Sheptstone. Arghhhhhh

Just Jen said...

I want a hairdresser like that!!
I would love a place to chat, my last hairdresser married my dad, how weird is that? lol

Jeanne said...

I've been very lucky - from 1987 until I came to London I only had one hairdresser - and often I still make sure I go to her on trips back home to PE!! She always suggests the most crazy, outlandinsh styles and colours, but obediently listens to me when I politely decline and go for "same as last time"!!

Wenchy said...

This was such a delightful read!

Tony said...

Good Job! :)

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