Me (to myself, in the mirror): “Ok, this [insert any unsightly skin imperfection– zit, wrinkle, mole, scar] is really bothering me, but I’m sure it’s one of those things that only I notice, and it’s totally imperceptible to everyone else.” (Vow not to focus on it. Convince self it’s not even there.)
10 minutes later, wake Nora up.
Nora: <Opens eyes. Immediately zooms in on skin imperfection with sniper-like focus. Lunges at it with two hands. Slaps it. Twists it between her little devil fingers. Tries to yank it off. Bites at it. Cackles maniacally.>
I thought cutting off all my own hair, alone and by myself, while listening to Kesha’s “Praying” would be super therapeutic (and it was! For exactly 5 seconds), since the only other time I cut my own hair was in the middle of the night when I was 6, after which I promptly blamed my brother, so I never got to really bask in the glory of my work.
Newsflash: There is no glory. I look very very bad.
Turns out there is a reason hair dressers do this for you. One reason is that THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING. Another reason is that they have a straight angle, and can therefore cut the hair evenly. As you can see in the haphazard-looking nubs above the hair bands, I did not accomplish this. It looks like someone cut my hair with a samurai sword.
The good news is that some child, through the nonprofit Children With Hair Loss, will receive a lovely 11-inch wig, which is a small price to pay for me looking like a gnome.
Now, Jose at Aveda Salon, you better hold on to your hat. Our appointment today will be more therapy than haircut.
#iwasonlysupposedtocut8inches #oops #shorthair
dontcarefreakingthefuckout #shorthairDONTDOTHISATHOME (oh, you would never do this at home, because you’re smart and rational? HOW NICE FOR YOU.)
I had my hair trial for the wedding today.
Me: “Before we begin, I think it’s important to stress again that I am a VERY sweaty person, and this MUST be taken into consideration when planning a hairdo.”
Hairstylist: “Don’t worry. I’ve done a lot of Jewish brides.”
“You’ve had that same pimple since our last session.”
— 1st grader
Eric has made the argument that because we have invested in fixing MY beauty concern (getting Invisalign to straighten my teeth), we should also be investing in HIS beauty concern. I’m not so sure of the equivalence.
Today I sent him a video of the progress my teeth are projected to make over a 16 week period.
Rushing into nail salon…
Me: “Hi! I don’t have a lot of time but I was hoping I could get a quick–”
Nail lady: “Yes, yes I see you need eyebrow wax.”
Me: “…back massage.”
Kid (pointing to the messy bun piled on top of my head): “My mom wears her hair like that when she does laundry.”
Me: “Oh, perfect.”
Kid: “Or, like, if she’s staying in the house all day.”
Me: “Uh huh…”
Kid: “Really if she’s doing anything where other people won’t see her.”
(Part of the Sassy Pedicurist series)
Many of you have expressed your sadness over the absence of Sassy Pedicurist. I know. Thanks to what I can only assume is Stockholm Syndrome, I miss that abusive, cranky old bitch too. So today I went to my old nail salon to inquire about her absence.
Me (to two manicurists sitting in the front): “Hi there! So I noticed that my regular manicurist has been gone for a while. I’m just wondering, is she coming back? Did she switch salons?”
Manicurist 1: “Which lady you talk about?”
Me: “Um…well, she’s older. I mean, not old. But like, older than you guys. I’m assuming. And, you know, she’s…Asian. So…”
Me: “I’m not great at describing people.”
Me: “Anyway, I’m just wondering where she went, because I really liked her. She did my nails for years.”
Manicurist 2: “What is her name?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
So the good news is that I managed to eventually uncover that Sassy has been out of town, but will be back at the nail salon in about a month.
The bad news is that I can never go back there.
I tried a new nail salon that just opened up on my block, so the lovely owner gave me the hard sell (in slightly broken English)….
Owner: “We give you 20% off today. And you tell your friends about us? I see you live in neighborhood!”
Me: “I do! But how can you tell?”
Owner: “You carry the Starbuck drink and you wear the clothes for going to gym.”
Me: “Ha! You’re right! I am heading to the gym!”
I’m not. These are my regular clothes.
Kid: “You have a very nice chin, Miss Emily. It points out just right.”
Me: “Aw, thank you!”