I have frizzy hair. What does THAT have to do with condoms or cameras, you may be wondering? Be patient, I’m getting to that – but you need the back story first.
As I was saying, I have frizzy hair – if I let my hair dry naturally, it frizzes out so badly at the ends, it looks like a huge triangle. I call it “pyramid hair”. It’s not terribly attractive, but it might make a fine nest for a pair of pigeons.
When Doc and I took a trip to Europe last fall, I didn’t want to spend all of my time blow-drying and flat-ironing my locks – so I took advantage of a Groupon and got a Brazilian Blowout. Basically, it’s a treatment that covers each hair with a keratin solution, which seals the hair cuticle, making it soft and smooth for about three months. It’s time consuming – three shampoos, painting the solution on tiny sections of the hair, a blow-dry, flat-ironing, and then another shampoo – and finally another blow-dry. If it’s done properly, there’s no need to style or flat-iron again — the hair will be frizz-free and wonderfully soft.
After six months, my hair was going back to old sphinx-like state, so when I saw another Groupon for a Brazilian Blowout, I snapped it up. This was at another location – another stylist – but I wasn’t worried – a Blowout is a Blowout – right?
When I got to the salon, Nina greeted me in an enthusiastic manner. She asked me to fill out a client card with my name, address and phone number, and we discussed how I wanted my hair cut. As the scissors flew, we chatted – or should I say, Nina chatted, and chatted, and chatted. She told me about her childhood, her crazy mother, her crazy ex-husband, her children who would not speak to her anymore, and her wise and witty grandmother who had raised her. As she shampooed my hair (I noticed that it was only twice, not thrice) Nina told me about the numerous household moves she had made, the numerous jobs she had quit, and the numerous salons she had worked in (some for as little as six days). She peppered the stories with slightly off idioms her grandmother used to say, like “she made her bed, but it still was a messy situation,” and “what’s good for the goose is good for the rooster.”
As Nina painted the solution on (weren’t those chunks of hair were much larger than they should be…and why did she only paint the roots?) she rambled on about the lawsuits she had been involved in, her evil ex-mother-in-law, and….”Then, ESTEFAN came BACK!” I froze for a moment. Had I missed a vital part of the monologue while she was furiously blow-drying my hair? Who the hell was Estefan? I ventured a guess: “Estefan is your ex-husband?” “No!” She exclaimed, brandishing the flat-iron like a weapon, “Estefan! The HAIRDRESSER!”
I tried to nod my head to indicate I comprehended what she was saying, but by that time Nina had a hunk of my hair clutched in the jaws of the flat-iron. She was on a roll now! Nina ranted that Estefan had worked at other salons with her, had mismanaged her money, had stolen her clients, and had been involved in some of the assorted lawsuits. She believed that he was following her from salon to salon…and now he had shown up at THIS salon a few weeks earlier.
I was alarmed! Not so much that Estefan might be stalking Nina (because her ranting was so disjointed and paranoid that she was starting to remind me of The Loser when he was in a manic stage of his bipolar disorder). No, I was alarmed because she was gesturing so wildly that the flat-iron was either barely touching my hair or she would pause while she made a point, leaving the 400 degree iron on one section of hair so long, I worried that it might burn right through.
As she shampooed my hair again, Nina told me that she was “going to have a talk” with Estefan to confront him about his motives – but only “when the moment was right.” She explained that, as her grandmother used to say, he had “bitten off more than he should eat,” and that she was just giving him “a noose on a long rope”. Then came my favorite – and it must have been Nina’s favorite as well, because she incorporated it into the conversation three more times as she blow-dried and took a curling iron to my hair. She had to wait to talk to Estefan, you see, because, as her grandmother always used to say, she had to be “Like condoms and cameras…ready to capture the magic moment!”
It came as no real surprise to me that my Brazilian Blowout did not live up to expectations. I still have flyaway hairs on the top of my head, the ends of my hair are frizzy, and I still have to flat-iron my hair instead of just letting it dry into soft and smooth waves. I thought about calling up Nina to complain – but then I remembered – I had given her my address and phone number on that blasted client card. Quite frankly, I don’t want Nina plotting her revenge against me – waiting – like condoms and cameras, to capture that magic moment!