All of us want some comedian reduction proper now, so let’s speak unhealthy hair days. Right here’s mine.
One in every of my greatest buddies is getting married in New York — black tie! — and I wish to deal with myself to a blowout. I’m staying at my aunt’s condominium, and the closest Drybar is one block over. I word the low stars on Google however ebook an appointment anyway. “Don’t fear, it’s like McDonald’s!” I reassure my buddies. “You choose what you need from a menu, and it’s all the time the identical.”
I’m a sorceress of self-delusion.
So what if the lavatory is soiled and the complete employees appears deeply sad to be there? From the smudged menu, I choose the “Cosmo-Tai” — a tousled wavy ‘try this makes you appear to be an additional in a teen drama (good) — and take off my glasses.
The Cosmo-Tai mannequin photographs from Drybar
The stylist washes my hair, and the water is ice chilly. “They’re saving cash on power prices! That’s so nice!” I inform myself. She torches my hair on the roots with the dryer, blasting my scalp with the fires of hell. “Cozy!” I believe.
The curling iron comes out, and I chill out and shut my eyes. Then I really feel my stylist sigh at each curl. Soul-searching sighs. Sighs of grief, exhaustion, malaise. I do know that doing my hair isn’t going to carry her any happiness at this time, and admittedly, it shouldn’t. A colleague passes by and asks, “If you get off?” and so they trade a short dialog on the theme of: I need this to be over.
Everyone knows this sense.
“You will have such tremendous hair,” she sighs. “I did it further curly so it’ll keep for the marriage.” She twirls the chair round so I can see. Glasses go on.
Within the mirror, a museum-worthy piece of summary artwork. Asymmetrical curls, so tightly wound that when you pull them they spring again with a cartoon boing! Others a little bit cramped, like they obtained caught in a automobile door. Frizz exploding from a wonky middle half that implies I could have caught my fingers within the socket to take the sting off. I ask, meekly, “Perhaps we tease it out… a bit?”
I tip 20% and rush outta there, taking a fast selfie within the elevator as much as my aunt’s condominium. “So, that’s a blowout?” she inquires from behind an iPad sport of Rummikub. “Are you… gonna cry?” my life associate asks, frightened.
No! I really really feel giddy. A hairdo so unhealthy it’s hilarious. I moist my fingers on the sink and attempt to tame the beast. Boing! The curls spring again. I take into account a bathe after which rethink due to not caring that a lot. When it’s time to go away for the marriage, I pull my hair right into a ponytail, a couple of curls protruding like dwell wires, and make my means uptown.
Famously unhealthy haircuts from Seinfeld, The Mindy Undertaking, Fleabag and PEN15.
I informed you mine, now you inform me yours.
Alex Beggs is a author and copywriter who lives along with her associate in Michigan. Her articles have appeared in Bon Appetit, Elle Decor, and The New York Instances. She has additionally written for Cup of Jo about meatloaf and chilly cake.
P.S. Three CoJ readers get hair makeovers, and Jannelle will get the haircut she’s all the time wished.
