Ode to my Hairdresser -- sorta

So, my hairdresser rocks. The Goth Girl is always hooking me up with ideas and good hair kharma and stuff. She did a real number on my hair a couple of years ago and when people hear the story and then hear that I'm still with her, they always scratch their heads and make a confused face.

Can't help it. There's not many people who can turn you into a human shag carpet and then make you come back for more. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment that way.

The thing is though -- I realized that my Gothgirl is like Scott in some ways. She's a teaser. From the minute I get in the shop until the time I walk out, she's usually teasing me about something. Granted, I bring much of this on myself by making ditzy comments like, "I wanna be blonde because I associate blondeness with brideness." (Yes, this is an actual Heather original comment.)

But the thing that I realized is that she teases me because, in her own way, she loves me. Not like some of my long-time close friends, but in more than just your average hairdresser-client kind of way. Because underneath the teasing, there's always something there will always be a remark that's usually very kind and considerate. And, like Scott and his delivery of these lines, these comments and their true sincerity will often take me completely off-guard. When I was in this past Saturday, getting back in touch with my blondeness, she was directing me towards the dryers and started carting all my stuff over for me. I got a little huffy and told her not to treat me like, you know, a princess. She told that she was going to treat me like I was a princess because I AM a princess and I deserve only the best and therefore deserve to be treated as such. Or something of that ilk -- something that said, hey -- you are special and you just need to recognize that.

It's nice to have that. Especially in the midst of bridal anxiety and getting overwhelmed by the minutiae. Don't get me started because the truth is I'm freaking out. I don't think there's much chance of me turning into Bridezilla and driving everyone crazy over getting every last detail exactly right because I'm still not sure what the friggin' details are!

I get to a point where I narrow down the things that I think are left to be considered and checked off. The music, the invitations, the cake. And then I will casually mention one thing to someone and that turns into a whirlwind of what color is this and where will this person stay/stand/sit/crap/whatever. Well, shit -- I hadn't even thought about what color that would be and I didn't even remember that THAT person was supposed to be coming. Oy vey. And then I'm back to ostrich mode. Which is not really solving things.

Anyways, so back to the Gothgirl. She's helping me out a little on one of my minutiae issues -- the invitations. And she keeps it real for me by reminding me, "This is NOT your wedding." That's the reality of it, folks and that really does help ground me. She even has her own hand in the NOT my wedding part. I told her that I was hoping that she was going to help me with my makeup in addition to my hair that day and she told me that I never would have had a choice in that because she "does my makeup better than I do."

Damn, well that's true. Frankly, if I ever get rich I'm gonna get her to be my on-call hair ho. Kinda like Christina Aguilera does. For those of you with lives outside of the E! channel, that's an interesting fyi -- Christina has her own hair person who comes out whenever she feels like "playing with her hair" -- even if it's like 3am. All that freak stuff, on call. I bet my Goth girl would get a kick out of making hair for me and stuff. I wouldn't even make her get up before noon.

Cuz I'm a cool rich girl like that, in my fantasy rich girl life. :)

Gonna go layer up for bed -- at the rate I'm going, guess I'll catch y'all next week!

HP