My hair has always been less than desirable. It’s frizzy, unruly, and obnoxious. Kind of like me on a good day! And for some reason this summer it has rebelled every step of the way. It seems that I developed a heavy case of frizitis.
So as I contemplated what would I do with this mane at my next hair appointment? I decided I would rescue it from its pig- headedness and attempt a Brazilian blowout. I contacted my local salon and they had me booked for the very next day.
I was eager for this appointment and forgot to ask about the cost. I assumed it would be roughly the same amount as a cut and color. And considered it one of those splurges that constitute want over necessity.
The process took over two hours from start to finish. As the stylist completed the process – I began to ohhh and ahhhh over my hair. It was sleek, shiny, and felt ever so soft. It was at that very moment I was struck by the evil temptation of vanity.
As I got up from the salon chair and got compliments on my hair all the way to the receptionist desk. It was at this point my ego was huge with my silky hair. As I waited for the cost and ready to leave a big fat tip the receptionist declared, “That will be three hundred and twenty-six dollars.”
My face blanched and I attempted to gain composure, “Oh! Three hundred and Twenty Six dollars.”
I think I almost choked on my own vomit as I paid the hefty bill.
As, I left the salon petting my hair, anxious thoughts began to roll through my head… And began to consider everything else that I could have done with three hundred and twenty-six dollars including tip. The next thought was uh oh…I didn’t discuss this with Mr.MBA.
How do I explain to a man with no hair that I just spent three hundred and twenty-six dollars not including tip on my hair? It was one of those hairy moments. We didn’t discuss this large of a purchase. So, to steady the blow of shock to my husband I took my leftover Vegas winnings and immediately deposited them into the bank account.
I then resorted to cooking his favourite meal, ensuring he had his two glasses of wine, as I broke to him the news.
“Ummm! Honey! I have something to tell you! “
“What is it?”
“Well, my hair.”
“It looks great! I love it!”
“Err. Thanks! But my hair…”
“What about your hair? How much did it actually cost?”
“Well! You’re not going to like it!”
“Three hundred and twenty-six dollars not including tip!”
“I’m sorry! I assumed and should never assume! Should have gotten a quote!”
“That’s right never assume! But you know what – it looks good! So enjoy it!
So now I have very expensive hair that I’m petrified of getting wet and keep thinking it would have been much better spent in my RRSP contributions. But then I pet it and everything feels better. It will be my new favourite pet for the next twelve weeks.
Do I love my hair? Yes. I can say with complete vanity for once in my life I love my hair. Would I ever pay three hundred and twenty-six dollars including tip again? Not a chance in hell ! Unless of course… I become a millionaire.