The Substitute Nail Place

I pledge allegiance, to my original beauty shop, the one and only good place to go.

Except when your sister in law forgets about you.

There have been only a couple times in the last 25 or so years that I've been forgotten at the beauty shop. Those times always have two accountable parties. Me. and She. The both of us. One time we blamed the 'force'. A temporary disturbance in the 'force' made us both forget.

Is a forgotten nail appointment by two people even an appointment at all? I digress.....

We're both doing a lot of different stuff, and family members, close friends and an occasional on-looker CLAIM there's some issues involving early onset dementia, so.... sometimes really important nail appointments get forgotten. And, as she will tell you, 'Family gets you nowhere around here.'

I'd like to raise my hands with an Amen to that statement. Sorry... digressing again.

So, because of a whole lot of un-fore-seen and forgotten reasons, I had to go to the substitute nail place. Twice. Whatever.... the second time is the funny story.

I arrived at the substitute nail place only 30 short minutes after it opened. Several, if not nearly all, of the chairs were already filled. This is the really good substitute nail place. PrissE recommended it for emergencies. I'm safe here.

I step to the counter, and request an acrylic nail fill. Tim (name changed to protect his innocence) says, 'Let me see you nails.'

I obeyed.

Tim has a furrowed brow as he says, 'You wait 10 minutes.'

Again, I obeyed.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Tim says, 'You sit chair 2.'

I obeyed. While placing MY OWN POLISH I BROUGHT FROM HOME at my station. Tim sits down, motions for me to give him my hands..... I obeyed (this is not my first nail rodeo). Tim then tells me that it's going to cost $2 more because of my solar nails.

Me: No, they are a-cry-lic nails. (I speak louder and slower when conversing with the Vietnamese.)

Tim: Oh. You do them yourself?

Me: No.

Tim: Oh. You friend do them?

Me: No. (Because, I'm not at the substitute nail place to let every person in the universe know my life story. Or, from whence other beauty shop I came.)

Tim: Oh. Still $2 more.

Me: Alright, but they are professionally done. They are acrylic nails. Premium Powders to be exact. The pink and the white.

Tim: These nails bad. Very bad. All crooked. Lines no good.

Me: Thanks. My regular nail girl will be excited to know your opinion of her work.

Lady beside me laughs out loud. In a big LOL fashion, as we both make faces.

Tim: You go chair 4.

I obeyed.

New nail guy has very little to say. Fills in my acrylic nails, buffs and shapes them, tells me to wash then, new nail guy leaves.

I return to chair 4, where the new nail lady polishes my nails, WITH MY OWN POLISH I BROUGHT FROM HOME, then begins to tell me that the polish doesn't look good. She recommends I use something else. I explain to her, in my slow talk, that I want this specific color because it will be pretty at my sister's wedding.

She's quiet for a moment, then with her most ugly wrinkled up face tells me that I 'need brows done, look too bushy.'

Now, I'm smiling because I think PrissE is having me 'punked' at the substitute nail place, so I decline a wax ripping off procedure and leave.

Later that day, in the car I reflected on the genius of the substitute nail place. They basically insult you until you concede to their procedures. It totally worked! Nail lady ripped 3 sets of eye brows while I was there, just by telling the gals they looked bushy.

It's fascinating.

Ya'll please don't tell my sister in law to insult me. She'll forget what she said, and I'll leave with the wrong procedure. No one wins in the insulting-dementia relationship.

You Didn't Notice

I love a good day a the beauty shop! It's one of my favorite things to do. Sure, some people might think once a week is a bit too much, but there's something to be said for maintenance. Truth is spoken in this place. No one leaves the Beauty Shop with toilet paper on their shoe or lipstick on their teeth. In this place, the truth is spoken.

Unless you've needlessly injected collagen into your lips. I can't help you with this irresponsible choice. Also? I'm probably going to make fun of you. Seriously? Bozo looks more mainstream. Invest your money more wisely please.

Today, I'm enjoying an updated color process and a dramatic change to the cut. Gotta keep things fresh and new, exciting and current.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent scurrying around town. Every sales person is in awe. 'I love your hair!' It was said so many times, I lost count. 'Thank you,' I replied, 'it's new today.'

I'm on cloud nine. Beaming with self confidence, I pick up the mooches from school and start the after-school process.

No one says anything. Well, they're just boys. How could they possibly notice everything? The Bossman gets home.... thousands of other meaningless tasks are accomplished. Still nothing. No compliments, no one asks what I did with my day.... nothing.

Right before bedtime, I shriek, 'LOOK AT MY HEAD!' Everyone pauses, looks at my head and in unison asks, 'Did you get a haircut today?'

Slightly.

Yes. A haircut and new color and a new style. People on the street have been mesmerized all day! Yet, my own family? Nothing.

The mooches laugh and begin a chorus of compliments that would have been welcomed after school, but now it's too little, too late. And? It's given in sarcasm, our family's native tongue. OK, OK.... I get it, everyone, go to bed.

The bossman is relentless with his compliments. He's really sweet. He tries. At the end of the day, I'm still the only girl in a house full of boys.




The end result is pleasant. Ever since that one shrieking incident, I return home from the weekly beauty shop visit to a serenade of compliments. It's a very pleasant afternoon.

I love pleasant afternoons.

Beauty Shop, Episode 1: Hair Color

The life of a hairdresser is rarely simple. She's a self-employed goddess that holds herself to a standard of beauty few of us can achieve. Yet, every morning, she's perfectly teased, sprayed and glued into place. She must juggle the clients, the inventory, the trash, the kids, the husband (or lack of husband), the tasks are endless, and all that's before lunch!

I love my Beauty Shop. It's a nice place. It's a fun place. Let's face it... it's the place that makes me 'presentable' to the general public. You don't want to know the nightmare of gray hiding underneath this color. I can't share the facial hair horrors, the chipped fingernail disasters, or the train wreck that would exist without the Beauty Shop. It isn't pretty, and you'll never see it in public. I have a signed affidavit from my hairdresser. We are bonded for life.

Now, I must share with you a true story. Hold your applause till the end.

Many people love to be blond. Luckily, you don't have to be born blond to sport the do. It's a relatively easy bleaching process. There's a timer involved, some product, some bleach, a little heat.... before you know it, you're blond!

One day, a girl in the shop started working on a client. She needed to make her client the 'perfect platinum blond.' Seemed like a reasonable task, the only problem was three bills were scheduled to hit the bank, and the deposit hadn't been made from the night before. The hairdresser's solution? Simple enough... put the product on, set the client under the dryer, then, run to the bank. HELLO? Leave a client under the dryer with product on their head that could possibly burn it off at the root and leave them bald. There's a fine line between bald and blond. Luckily, in this case, no one was bald. So, the only reasonable result? Beautiful Blond!! Thanks to a couple of the other girls, the client left happy. See? It's a group effort.

A couple of hair dyes ago, I ventured to the wild side for some vibrant streaks of red and blond. Easy enough. My hairdresser did everything just as I wanted. In no time at all, I had some crazy red hair. There was one stipulation, and it went a little something like this here....

At this time, out of respect to the one who holds the power of 'the dye', I must directly quote her: "Sassy, if you get chlorine in this hair color, I will personally hang you from the tallest pole. You will never be red again, and I'll let whatever strange color of orange your hair turns, stay there. You are, under NO circumstances to enter a pool or hot tub of any kind. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Now, a little bit of a warning would have been nice. Never let it be said that beautiful is easy. Girls, beautiful is a sacrifice and a process, and if you're not careful, your 'process' can end up hanging from the top of a pole as a sacrifice. No worries, I held to my strict instructions, and nary a hair on my head saw chlorine for the rest of that summer. I believe the results were worth it.



Crazy red isn't for everyone, but I loved it for those weeks.