About two years ago, I started coveting blonde streaks. I started seeing young women with dark hair and just one or two streaks of blonde. Looked hot. “I could do that,” thought I.
So I bought a home kit and I did it. And it looked kind of cool, but also kind of sloppy and amateurish. And since I also color the rest of my hair, after a while I looked a real mess. When I went to get my hair cut, the woman explained that what I wanted was highlights. I didn’t know I wanted highlights, but I don’t know all the hair language, and she seemed sure.
So the highlights looked great, and everyone complimented me on how attractive and flattering it was, so I thought I was happy with that, and at least now I knew what it was; what the word for it was and how to get it, and that helped.
So I got my highlights touched up maybe three times, and then the fourth time, I came home blonde.
Just. Blonde. And that was a mistake.
But I said I was happy with it, because, y’know, it’s all over the top of your head, and if you like it, it’s much easier to live with.
Fifth time, they look at me and say “Why the hell are you blonde?” And they do process color, which is more or less what you do at home except better, and now I’m back to my auburn, and there’s no blonde.
So I go a really long time without coloring my hair and I notice a gray stripe is growing in. And I think “stripe.” Like a memory reactivated. And I go to the hair place and I say “gray stripe.” And they say, “No, what you want is a blonde stripe,” and I say, “That’s what I want?” and they say “Yes.”
And it turns out, that’s what I wanted all along. It feels so…soothing to finally have what I’ve been seeking.
I learend all sorts of lessons out of this stupid, senseless, banal, and excessively girly experience. This is 100% how I interact with the world. If I can’t articulate what I want, I absolutely believe what people tell me. Even when they’re wrong. Even when they say “highlights” and I want “stripe,” if I don’t have the vocabulary or the expertise, I assume I’m wrong and they’re right.
And then I say I’m happy. Because it really is too painful to say otherwise. This is how I loved my bad tattoo until the very day I had it covered up. This is how I was happily married until the very day I asked for a divorce. And you know what? I don’t even know that it’s wrong. Maybe it’s “denial” which is unhealthy, but maybe it’s acceptance. Maybe it’s making lemonade. Maybe I’d have gone back and demanded that my hair be fixed if I didn’t deny deny deny, but maybe I’d have woken up and looked in the mirror and hated myself. Is that healthy? Maybe I just don’t expect that life is going to come up with better than lemons all that often, and making lemonade is a skill I’ve perfected.
And finally, I learned how easy it is to find safe space. You just have to be heard. If I say stripe, and they hear stripe, I feel…comforted. Soothed. Happy. Being listened to and heard, that’s the key to everything.
Interesting. I’ve really suffered over not getting what I wanted from hairdressers, they deny that it’s not what I asked for.
Also, I always had this horrible time being photographed (not anymore). The last show I got head shots taken for (before it magically shifted) I told the photographer that I have this hard time. And she and I discussed all the issues; really broke it down. And we took pictures, and she was pleased with what we saw.
She called me at home a few nights later. You were right, she told me, we still didn’t get it. None of these look like you.
And somehow that felt better than Trust me, you’ll do fine.
We re-shot. They came out a little better, but not fabulous. But I did so appreciate how much she listened and heard me.
Reminds me of when I said I wanted a blue stripe in my hair. My hair person had trouble finding dye she liked for the job (and since she does a fabulous job on my highlights, I just trusted her) and I expressed some frustration over the delay. People would say “Well, you can just get the clip in kind, right?” And then would refuse to understand when I said that just wasn’t the point. The point was, I was reclaiming some power in my life after a job just …ended. (And I’d never had the guts to color my hair something unnatural when I was a kid due to the perception that my step-mother would throw a conniption.)
So, long rambling personal story aside, I’m glad you finally got to say “Stripe!” and have it taken seriously. 🙂 Personal appearance stuff may feel shallow sometimes, and sometimes it is!! But it also affects how we perceive ourselves. And that’s important.
No one wants to be a bitch, right? Nice girls are content with what they get because Other People Have Worked Hard and bitches demand more because they are, well, bitches.
I cant seem to find a middle groud, myself. Sometimes I like things just to be nice and sometimes I am a bitch, but I think every woman ub the end is ruled by the dictates of her hairdresser 😉
Normally I don’t mind being a bitch. It’s something like when I am sure I’m stuck, or when I believe I have no choice, or when I just don’t get it. People have so much power over you when they’re the experts explaining to you what you “really” want.
I think the most interesting thing is how this silly stripe ended up being such a teaching place for me. Also, it looks hot.
Well post a pic of it! You cant possibly know what you like all by yourself 😉
Ladyfriend; I’m right there! For many years, I cut, permed and colored my own hair…until it just wouldn’t grow past a certain length; so I started going to salons to get it cut and still three out of five times, was really unhappy with the result because they cut it too short (way too short);but did I complain to them? No, I even still tipped them because I figured, “Hey, they put all this time into it”…! Duh. So now, I am sure to tell them….only 1/4′ OR WHATEVER, and am mostly happy..I just need to get over this fear of being able to really tell people how I feel about something ~ ESPECIALLY when it has to do with my appearance! Glad you finally got it!