Whilst Trying to Feel Pretty, I Ended Up Looking Like a White Trash Version of Tanya Harding: I Want My Day Back, Spa!

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

I've needed a haircut for a while. I made an appointment at the Aveda Institute in Minneapolis, where spa grade haircuts are available for $15.00, instead of the usual $35. The best part about this is the great smell of the Aveda products, and the scalp, neck and hand massages that come with the professional grade haircuts. I secretly decided to get a soft curl perm, so that I could finally have curly tresses that didn't fall out after an hour. I can't tell you how excited I was about this. When I told my boyfriend, he winced. "A perm? Are you sure?" Silly boyfriend, perms aren't the poodle inducing image they used to be! I am getting a soft perm with big fat curls that fall beautifully around my face. I'm going to feel pretty. And I'm not going to tell anyone else, because they are going to be blown away by me finally looking beautiful, my hair not matted to my head. I arrived at 12:15 for my 12:30 appointment. Let's count the red flags, shall we?

I sat and read my book until 1:15, when I was called in for my appointment (1); when I sat down, she asked me what I wanted. I told her, and I told her that I wanted a perm so that my baby fine hair would actually hold curl and volume. She told me it would be best to perm my hair first and then cut it (2). She called over her professor, who told her how to roll my hair in preparation (3), asking if she knew how to do a brick roll (4). He also told her to cut my hair first. After a quick wash with NO scalp massage (5) and no towel to keep me warm or dry as I walked back to her station by myself (6), She piled all the hair on top of my head and made 2 snips (7). An hour and 15 minutes later, my hair was finally in curlers (8), with a second pass to put in picks to hold it. She pulls out the perm box and starts reading it (9), as if she just bought it at the Piggly Wiggly (10). After a 10 minute wait, she finally mixes the first 2 ingredients and calls over her prof (a different one (11)), to check her brick roll. The prof looks at me, down her nose and over her glasses (12) and says, "why are you getting a perm? If you use V05, Pantene, Suave or Aussie, you're hair won't hold it. You have too much wax build up." (13) I told her my hair has been this fine and smooth since I was a child. "Weeeeelll, we'll try it, but it may not stick. You can come back for a redo, but that's all we'll do for you." Who the f*** are you, lady, and why are you in my space??? Do you have any concept of SPA day, or pretty, or something nice to do for myself? I looked at her and said, "then why are there curlers in my hair? Where were you an hour and a half ago?" She quickly smooths over, "oh, well, let's just continue on..." "Well what SHOULD I be using?" I ask. "Anything Professional" she says. Oh gee, thanks. The "stylist", who graduates on MONDAY, then doused my head with the perm solution, ignoring the top and front (14) and stuck my head in a shower cap for 20 minutes. During that 20 minutes, I start reading the box. According to the box, I should have had the next step up perm, not the one she's giving me, and I should have a heat source on my head. I bring it up, and she says, "I have only ever done 1 perm." (15). (16). (17). So 20 minutes later, she takes me over to the sink, lays me down on all my curlers and rinses my hair for 10 minutes, forcing water down my back and drenching me. After we read the box together for the next 3 steps (18), all of which involved some sort of torture of me, whether it be squeezing the sharp curlers into my head to blot dry while sticking her finger in my eye (19) or having me sit in awkward positions resting on curlers, we take the curlers out and go back to the station, once again with no towel, and my back drenched into my underwear (20). We get to the seat, and she starts picking through my hair, pulling it out (21). She says, "Oh, I forgot conditioner." So she starts putting in hair gel and mousse, which are obviously the same thing (22). Then she doesn't see the curls, so she starts trying to tease my hair, yanking and pulling (23). I looked like a drowned rat, and that is NOT an exaggeration. When my bangs finally dried a little, she cut them. Too short and chunky (24). she flops them off to the side without even combing them and they start drying kittywampus (25). Then she calls her prof over to sign off on it. I was like, "WHAT? This is done?" The prof says, "hmm. Maybe we should dry her hair a little, it's still really wet." I say, "I really don't like my bangs, they are chunky and sticking out everywhere. Can we round brush them? I need them to blend in." She does round brush them, but they end up looking like an entirely different entity than the rest of my hair, and she frizzes out the front of the right side of my head in the crossfire (26). So, as she has done dozens of times in the last FOUR AND A HALF HOURS (that's right, it's almost 5pm and this point, and I got there at 12:15...(27)), she douses my head with water from a spray bottle. I am SERIOUSLY waterlogged by this point, and still soaked and freezing from all previous dousings and rinses (28). Aaaaaaand, my bangs go back to looking kittywampus and I go back to looking like a drowned rat (29). I don't know what was worse, because without conditioner, it was frizzy and white trashy wavy. I muster up the courage to say, "I still don't like my bangs. I just need them to blend." Her response to this is to cut all the way down my entire right side, so that it doesn't look chunky anymore (30). So now I have 2 uneven sides and nothing tapers, and I won't bore you with the other things that made me cry all the way home. She calls over her prof, because he has curly hair, and he can tell her what to do with my bangs. He comes over and his answer to this issue of how terrible I look is, "Can you go home and play with it? Can you fix it yourself?" So, to sum up: I spent 4 1/2 hours to look like a drowned rat, spent $60.00 to do it, and I am supposed to go home and work with it, and come back if it's not flowing. RIGHT. She took off my apron, and I was shocked that I was done. The logic: if we keep messing with it, it's only going to get worse. NICE. So I go down to the lobby, she refuses to give me the survey about my experience, and she HAS to show me product for her course study. The looks on the other customers' faces said it all: "I'm so sorry! Did that happen here?" I got out to my car, threw my hair into a ponytail and texted my boyfriend the following while crying hysterically: "I'm not sure how to get out of Minneapolis. On 4th and Central. I'm on my way home. Can we please not talk about this? Ever?" I didn't even return my movie from Redbox, because I refused to go in to the store. I'd rather pay another dollar. To add to my pity party tears, I didn't get ANY of the massages or ANY of the great smelling products. That's the WHOLE reason to go there! (eheh, eheh ehe eheh...cough cough....hate my life!!!!)

So. My day of beauty ended up being a day of pain (beauty is NOT pain, stop saying that!). I was insulted, embarrassed, and spent money I didn't have, because I wanted to feel good about myself. My best friend texted me and asked me out for dinner. I called her back bawling, and told her it WAS that bad. I finally convinced her after the story about the way people looked at me in the lobby. And Aveda graduate, let me give you some advice; do NOT show me the picture of what it is SUPPOSED to look like. Don't do that. Thanks to Elle Woods, I know that washing my hair in the first 24 hours deactivates the ammonium thyglocolate! So there is 60 dollars and 5 hours down the tubes. I want my day back! I came home with my hair in a pony and a hat on. I'll be doing that for a while, because I guarantee THIS will be the perm that actually sticks, even after washing, which I am not supposed to do for 48 hours? What happened to 24?

Today's song of the day is:
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Just+Like+A+Pill/22521998
Just Like a Pill, by Pink.

Just the Chorus. Angry girl music....mmmmmmmm. Rated PG-13, if your kids listen. It'll be better tomorrow, when this is all a memory. Sorry! I feel better, though! It's JUST HAIR! :P