Helpless Female Visits the Hairdresser

My hairdresser deserves a medal for patience and calm in the face of, well … me. But it’s not what you might think. I was making every attempt to be cooperative. I just had no idea that my blood pressure was going to play a part in getting my hair done. And she hasn’t had anyone nearly pass out just from being put under the hairdryer before.

It all began with a plan to let my hair revert to a glamorous grey, which I have known is there at the roots, but have never actually seen in full force. But, no, it wasn’t the sight of my white-gray hair that threatened my senses. I had done a lot of thinking and research. There are conflicting views on the stylishness of going grey, but I had come to the conclusion that overall health and fitness matter a lot more than the color of hair. If I can run a half marathon and complete a sprint triathlon, who cares what color my hair is?! And there is the proverbial smile to communicate inner beauty. Besides, my husband was in favor of me going grey and he was the one who had wanted me to color it.

Pennee, owner and operator of Canathus Salon, had explained to me what the difficulties would be with “undoing” the dark brown color that was already on my hair. We both knew from the past, which included trying to highlight it last year, that my hair is “resistant to change.” Pennee has been doing my hair for nearly 7 years and knows it and me well. I trust her. I was ready. She was willing. I was about to undergo a “heavy bleach weave.”

I’ve never had tin foil all wrapped up in my hair before. I felt special. When the bleaching was slow to progress, my dryer time was increased. Then, it was increased again. Pennee is a professional with years of experience. I am not her first problem child. Still, I am apparently unique in her experience.

 

Something started to drip down the side of my head and into my ears. I have been under the hair dryer many times previously, but metal is a good conductor of heat. The insides of my ears were turning into little ponds. Not knowing if this was normal, I called it to Pennee’s attention, inadvertently causing some panic. Upon inspection of my head, however, her fears of colors running together were allayed. Dedicated that she is, she wiped her fingers through the sweat dripping from me to verify that it was just sweat. I went back under the dryer and continued reading my kindle book about aerobic versus anaerobic exercise.

 

Finally, 45 minutes later, it was time to rinse the chemicals. I got right up and walked to the washing station. It is a good thing it isn’t any further from the dryer than it is, because all of that radiated heat had apparently done more than make my head sweat. Right after I sat down, I began to feel as if I might just drop right out of consciousness. I mentioned to Pennee that I was very sleepy, and, oh, by-the-way, had I ever mentioned before that I have very low blood pressure….

 

Poor Pennee. She was already frustrated with how my hair treatment was proceeding. Now, she had to decide whether or not to call 911. She got me a cold glass of water and watched closely while I sat up from leaning back over the wash basin. I was not ready to move, but I thought I would be fine by myself. I think she was confident I wouldn’t try anything unless I felt strong enough, so she went to do something for the next step while I waited to see if my stars would settle down.

 

In a couple of minutes, I did feel stable enough to get back to the main chair. You would think that someone who runs several miles in the heat and humidity, as well as works hours in the summer garden, could stand a few extra minutes under the hairdryer. But just ask my optometrist. I can be unpredictable.

My fuzzy headedness (inside, not outside) subsided even more and she tried one more thing to get the most out of the treatment. She was running behind schedule from taking care of me, but she never wants anyone to leave unhappy. I told her that good or bad, I would be coming to her for my hair until one of us died! I was pretty sure that meant a long term relationship, despite the symptoms of the day.

She let me leave the premises with wet hair, extracting solemn promises that I would email her when it dried and I could see the end result. The result is just lovely. I have blondish curls for the first time in my life. My dear hubby says he originally wanted to marry a blonde…  😉    I have an appointment to go see Pennee again in 6 weeks, to lighten my hair one more time. She’s probably making some notes on my client card about restricting dryer time.