I don`t know how other people are but as long as I have known myself, I always went through an adventure, no matter where I was going or what I was doing. Some were awful, some were hilarious but even the awful ones brought joy to my friends, while I was telling them the stories, so any adventure, for me, is a blessing in disguise.
I never wanted a boring life, that`s for sure, so the Universe gave me what I asked for (be careful what your mouth is saying because the Universe is always listening 🙂 !)
One adventure took place last summer, in my lovely town of Exmouth.
Someone very dear to me said that I should give up on being the “Red Hair” lady, and become the dark mysterious witch, in other words: ”Change your hair colour, please, pretty please!!”
Since I have tried all the possible nuances of red, I decided “Why not?!”
Easier said than done.
I took a day trip around town to all the hair salons I knew so I can find out the best prices for such an elaborate operation because my hair is very long so I expected the prices to match that case.
From six hair salons, I chose the “exotic” one (Turkish) and cheap (£50), because the owner didn`t scream and run away when he saw my amazingly long hair.
I made the appointment at 14.00, so I can give them more time to do the job right, so on that day I went there and gave my … hair to them.
The owner was busy with a client that had her hair transformed to resemble a peacock, so he showed me with a slight move of the head the young lady that was charged with taking care of me and my treasure.
She asked me in a birdy voice if I would like something to drink, like tea or coffee (if I had known what was in store for me, I would`ve asked for something very strong!).
Since I was on Middle Eastern “territory“ I asked if I could have a Turkish coffee. The owner`s wife, Turkish as well, didn`t know what that is, so she asked the hairdresser (again, Turkish).
She explained very simply: ”You know how Turkish tea is made? Do the coffee the same way.”
The owner`s wife disappeared, came back three minutes later saying they don`t have any coffee. Since we solved the problem that was getting in our way, I said: “Thank you, I don`t want anything else”.
I took a seat in that lavishing, wonderful chair, I looked in the colour catalogue, showed the hairdresser the blackest black I could find and she started working on me.
She forgot to apply cream on my face contour, but I thought the UK has a different procedure or they have better cleansing solutions for cleaning the dye stains from the skin, so I just sat there, smiling dumb, listening to music and dreaming about my perfect beauty after the job was done.
The hours were passing us by and she managed to finish half of my head and empty a bowl of dye (half of it was resting all over me because she left my hair hanging all over my face and neck) so she went to bring more material.
She came back and continued the d(ie)ying operation whilst asking me what else do I want after she`s done? I told her to leave the hair damp, because it has its own personality and it likes to get dry naturally but can trim the endings and, if she can, I would like my hair to be braided.
She asked the owner if they do braidings, he said no. I told her I don`t want something fancy, just a normal braided ponytail. She said she can do that.
After finishing the second bowl of dye, the owner told her something in Turkish, and I don`t know the language but from the way things were moving, he might have told her that she needs to remove the dye from my hair because it was there longer than it had to be, therefore she took me to the washing chair.
As soon as she started washing my hair I felt a sharp pain in my chest and I knew something is wrong. She was washing my hair the way women washed the clothes in the old times by the river! The back of my head didn`t see the water. I guess the courses she took to become a hairdresser were very firm on that: if it cannot be seen, leave it unwashed!
She added some conditioner but she rinsed it all. After she moved me back on the initial chair, she got from her drawer a very thick brush and she started brushing my hair from up to down. I thought I am going to faint. I told her that my hair has a very silky texture (in case her professional eye didn`t see that) and being that long, it cannot be unknotted with such a brush, but she can knot it very well, as long as she keeps on trying 🙂 .
I looked in her drawer and found a comb like the one I use and she started using that the same way, from the top on my head to the endings, until my hair, my beautiful and amazing hair!… the apple of my eye! (I totally understand Samson 🙂 ), became just like the wool of a sheep that ran into too many thistle bushes. The only thing I saw in front of me was a pair of scissors.
I remained calm (but inside me was a tornado, to say the least, the smile disappeared from my lips) and I told her that the hair needs more conditioner. She brought me some, I took the comb from her hands and started brushing, but my hair was a complete mess.
She kept on asking me if I want my endings trimmed. I told her that before we get to that point the hair needs to be unknotted. She added that if I want it dried she will add £15 to the initial rate. I repeated that unknotting comes first and I will also have to cancel the trimming (she barely knew what kind of brush to use, I would not want that person close to my hair with something sharp in her hands) and no, I said from the beginning that I don’t want it dried (goldfish memory – 3 seconds only, but to be true, had been 3 hours since she started destroying my hair, and she was tired).
I guess for her it didn`t seem such a long experience because she said that it took her a bit more than 20 minutes to dye my hair (I don`t know what type of measuring equipment they are using in Turkey, but the time didn`t match the one from the UK).
The owner saw me trying to manage my hair while keeping my head down, so he asked me if I am crying. “Nope, not yet. Soon though”. He laughed and he told the hairdresser to finish faster “whatever she had left” because they are running out of time (Turkish time or UK one, I wanted to ask).
When I heard that I stood up, with my hair dripping all over my clothing, made a loop on top of my head with it and I asked how much I owe them for whatever was done up until that point.
The hairdresser told me to take a seat so she can clean my face (she tried to do it earlier, but her efforts were futile).
I repeated back to her what the owner said, that they are out of time (because of another appointment or because they need to close the shop) so all I want to do is pay and leave. She said that I owe them £55 (£5 over the initial rate).
I paid and I left. She asked while I was leaving if I want to make another appointment for the trimming. I told her I will ask one of my friends to do that for me because he is not a professional hairdresser.
I left in a hurry and when I saw my reflection in a window store I was stunned. My face was literally painted for a Halloween party! The truth is, after the “washing of the hair” operation, I was so angry that I avoided looking in the mirror, being afraid I will break it with one glance. I could feel the water coming down my neck, on my clothes, so as soon as I got home I had to throw them away.
The “trip” from the hairdresser to the house it`s 5 to 10 minutes and I have to cross the entire town, so I tried to get home on the side streets, like a well-known criminal, hiding from the police, avoiding the looks of the passers-by. It was a warm sunny day and every person in town decided to take a walk in the sun, especially on those little streets, usually deserted. If that wasn`t enough, some acquaintances drove past me, blowing their horn in recognition, one more reason to be looked at.
When I saw my porch I felt relaxed and happy. The majority of people that live in my house were at work. As soon as opened the porch I saw half of them gathered around for a beer, bathing in the sun and talking. They were off that day… “Thank you, dear Universe. I felt a dying need to be admired today!”
Their mouths opened in shock, one by one but then they saw the venom in my eyes so they swallowed any questions they might have had. I ran past them like lightning and I locked myself in my lovely, silent room. Finally alone!
I put a handful of conditioner on my head, and I cried, and I wailed after each and every single thread of hair that was falling, like a little warrior, in the garbage bin. Half an hour later I managed to bring back to life whatever was left of it.
I went into the courtyard to smoke a cigarette and one of the girls from the house cleaned the dye from the back of my head because I couldn`t.
While I was telling the story I saw them go from shock to calm and then to a very healthy and liberating laughter and that changed my feelings, so I went from anger to laughter as well. No matter how bad that experience was, the fact that it brought laughter, made me feel better.
Life is wonderful! As strange as this may sound… I take life very seriously but I live it as a fun game!