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Something Nice for Myself, a Trip to the Beauty Parlor

I did something I haven’t done in approximately a year today. I went to the beauty parlor and had my hair done. I had it cut and colored. I’ve been handling those things myself for a very long time, and it was obvious. While I occasionally had my hair cut by a stylist before the pandemic, I don’t think I’ve had a professional color in at least three years. My hair was a mess.

My stylist was amazing. He was patient, kind, and didn’t complain. He asked me numerous times if I was experiencing any discomfort, burning, or itching. He kept checking on my progress and even consulted another stylist when my color wasn’t taking evenly.

I’m happy it’s not just me who can’t get color to stay on the left part of my head. He had to use a second application on that part of my hair to get my color uniform. My natural hair color isn’t just silver. It’s stubborn, nearly glow in the dark silver.

I’ve seriously considered letting my hair return to its natural state. It would be so nice to not to mess with coloring it once a month and worrying about how fast my roots grow out. It would save me money, too.

The trouble is when I look in the mirror, I feel like I should have dark hair, not bright silver. I feel like I’m too young to look so old. I’m not a particularly vain person, but I feel better about myself when I don’t look like the little old lady down the street.

I started going gray/silver in my teens. My friends and coworkers would tease me about it every now and then, but I was on the fence about dying my hair. By the time I was 28 years old, my hair was heavily streaked, silver through the black. I decided to take matters into my own hands one Thanksgiving.

We were at my aunt and uncle’s house, and Dad was sitting across the table from me. He looked up at me and said, “My God girl, you have more gray that I do.” He went on to make some other wisecracks that I don’t remember. I made up my mind then and there that I wasn’t going to look like a skunk anymore.

I stopped at Walgreens on the way home and bought my first box of hair color. Oh, what a mess I made with that box of color! I had it all over me, my hair, my shower, my vanity, and my bathroom sink. Over the past twenty years, I’ve become more skilled and a whole lot neater. I still can’t compete with a professional, though.

The process is relaxing, as well. There’s something freeing about simply sitting in a chair and having someone else take care of me for a while. My stylist can see the back of my head where I always miss huge sections, so the stress about how it’s going to look is reduced.

I was at the salon for a couple of hours, and I felt so good afterward that I went shopping. I have a loved one getting married later this month, and I need something to wear. While I didn’t find an outfit for the wedding, I did find some nice things for work and a blouse for Mom, which I know she’s going to enjoy. I found some great jewelry deals, too. I’m all set for wedding sparkle.

The price difference between salon color and the drugstore box is huge. I believe in saving money everywhere possible. However, I realize I’m paying for my stylist’s time and expertise, which is worth a lot. I want to look good for my relative’s wedding, and my trip to the beauty parlor gave me a good start.

When I talked to Mom on the phone this evening, I told her about my frivolous afternoon. I was beginning to feel guilty, but she nipped that in the bud. She told me I deserved to do something nice for myself every once in a while. A trip to the beauty parlor is nice, indeed.

Do you ever take the time and money to do something nice for yourself?

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