a minute of manners and musings
near calamity at the beauty parlor
Yesterday, my daughter and I were at the beauty parlor, I mean, hair salon. Going there usually makes me feel young, hip and, on a good day, skinny. Those stylish young people dressed in all black, music I’ve never heard playing overhead, offers of hot tea or wine, the shiny and sparkly bottles of OPI nail polish and the smells…oh, the smells…I love it. Because my daughter was called back first, I found myself sitting on a plush sofa staring out a large picture window. The sun was shining, the sky was perfectly blue, the fall leaves were gleaming…I was lost in thought about something insanely intelligent, enjoying my quiet moment, when a young man called my name.
You might expect me to reply to my own name with something like a cute little sing-song “Ye-es!” or even a “Coming!”
What actually came out of my mouth from somewhere deep, deeeeep down in the part of myself I thought I’d moved beyond when I stopped driving a CJ-7 and eating cornbread with buttermilk was this:
The high-pitched kind my grandmother lets out when we walk in her front door so we can tell where she is.
I swear the world stopped spinning. What was that? Woo? People in this building don’t say ‘Woo’! In fact, I don’t see anyone in my vicinity even close to the generation that says ‘Woo’.
The young man with the oh-so-stylish and highlighted haircut jerked like someone had given him just a small little pinch. His eyes blinked. He was trying not to grin. I’ll just say it. He was startled. If I had thought about it (and had been brave enough), I wonder what he would have done if I had put my nose really close to his and said it again. Louder. With my arms waving around in the air.
What if’s crack me up…
So, there it was.
“Woo!” Hanging in the air at Season’s Spa and Salon. Voted The Best Spa & Salon in Middle Georgia three years in a row. It took me about half a second to decide one little slip of the Woo wasn’t going to ruin my day. I’m a professional, for Heaven’s sake.
I straightened my shoulders, I picked up my pocketbook, and I followed that young man straight to the hair chair. I sat with my head tilted slightly back and my lips a little pouty. I’ve got this, I thought. I’m NOT the kind of girl that is faced with a near calamity and relents without a fight. I am NOT going to continue to apply gallons of wrinkle cream for nothing. I. Am. Not. Old.
I looked cute little Stephanie straight in the eye and asked her to cut my hair a little different this time…“I want something a little edgey”.
And, do you know what she said?
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. All I have to do is add the ‘hoo’? That scared me to death! I can add the Hoo, no problem!
That was close.