Hell I couldn't think of anything to call this entry so I was thinking about three different things that happened today. And it went in exactly the same order. When I arrive at work there's ONE stylist looking like she's been stampeded by a herd and ready to drop. People are EVERYWHERE waiting. Of course, getting upset, they can't get in etc. My shift began at 3:00 but I was there a bit early, then I'm told one woman is waiting on me. She's specififed me? Plus she'd been waiting since 2:00 because my original schedule was 1:20 till 5:00 but since I'm a Night Owl I switched with someone who actually likes getting up during the earlier part of the day. Of course, no one told this poor woman this. But she waited and had come all the way from Carrollton. Anyway she wants.....
ME?
REALLY??
Okay my curiosity is peaked and I find her and she asks, 'Are you Donna?' I'm gun-shy so I'm kinda like, 'yeeeaaaaahhhh' with a kind of trepidation on my face waiting for an onslaught of anger of something I did. She starts gushing, 'My daughter was in here the other night and you cut her hair. I want you to cut it just like that. She loves it and so does everyone else. It's just so cute'...etc. and she kept going on. I did remember her but when she left I thought she was just being nice about liking the cut. It's kind of my own spin on a haircut I'd seen in a book. It looks different on everyone. So to make a long story short, I cut her hair the same way (she was so much like her daughter) and she loved it too. Of course, it looked different than her daughters hair but then again, her hair was different. I was shocked when she told me she was 80 though, because she didn't look over 65 or 70....tops. She left a happy camper and so was I. There were others that passed through my chair but I don't have that sharp brain anymore that remembers faces and phone numbers and anything else like I had a photographic memory. Somewhere along the very long years this ability has decided to clearly fade. And I miss it.
Well, hell.
So that brings us from the Good of the day to the Bad. A woman comes in with a tiny child, maybe this baby is one or so and wants to know if I'll cut his hair. Now let me back up and tell you how much kids just hate me. The other stylists can do fairly well with them. At least the kids aren't terrfied of them. Oh sure they'll cry and carry on but it's just not the same with me. I mean, do they look at me and see horns growing out my ears or fire shooting from my eyes? I don't know how they see me. Maybe I don't want to? I'm trying, oh and I'm trying sooooo hard to explain to this lady that her kid isn't gonna be happy with me. "Oh he'll do fine, I just hold him on my lap when 'so and so' does him and he's fairly good."
Uh.......can you say with me; famous last words? Louder.....FAMOUS LAST WORDS!
I persisted in my not-very-successful-way that it just would not happen that way.
Nope. Nada. No Way.
She wanted to try. Well he was all happy sitting in the cart so I suggested I just start trying to cut his hair there. I succeeded with one....just ONE cut along his hairline. THEN he realized I was touching him. And he just went ballistic. Now, these mom's don't seem to understand that these scisscors are like razor blade sharp and I have scars on my hands to prove it. I really, really, did try my best to discourage her by telling her he might get cut or and/or an eye poked out when he started to go all crazy and whatnot. She didn't seem to think he would. Then after the first cut when he SAW me...... That's when the unexplainable horror came over his little tiny cute face. I sweetly asked mom, 'Should we stop here? And just leave it at that, no charge of course.' OH. NO. "Let's go on, I'll sit and hold him.' Oh did I mention she had a friend with her? So okay, she sits in my chair and holds him face first against her. I start to comb quickly and cut. This kid turned into the Tazmanian Devil. She called her friend in for reinforcements. One held his legs, mom held his face into her chest and I tried to move quickly without cutting him OR me. At one point I didn't hear anything. He wasn't crying and I didn't hear him breathing. You know when a kid is so upset they can't get their breath? I said, 'Uh, he's so upset I don't think he's breathing!' She blew in his face and said, 'He will, believe me, he's just really upset!' Well that made two of us. No make that three. Mom was sweating like we were in a sauna. I wasn't exactly calm and serene. She had sweat pouring off her forehead, I think mine was running rivulets down my arm pits, chest and back. But the good news is my make up never got wet and faltered.
Yea. I can still look good while it sounds like I am poking toothpicks under his nails.
So this poor kid is now giving me the evil eye each time he looks at me, through big elephant tears and screams that were making people at the Wal-Mart checkout stop and look. We got it accomplished, eventually, but he lost his socks in his squirming and I thought he was going to lose his pants while her friend tried to keep hold of him. Gosh where did his strength come from??? It looked pretty good, which is saying a lot because a lot of the time I mostly have to dance around them just grabbing chunks of hair and trying to cut so he actually had a decent cut. I sooo wanted to use clippers, ie., he wouldn't be cut but she thought it might scare him more?? I don't want to see him scared more. But we did have to use the tiny trimming clippers around his ears which sent him into another world.
In the middle of this a man had come in and sat waiting his turn and watched the whole thing. (I wondered if at any minute the man might bolt but he never did) I tried to talk to the baby to tell him it was over and if looks could kill; well you wouldn't be reading this. This poor kid was terrified of me. I got a towel and took it to mom and she commented, 'I need some water on it because he has stickiness all over his face (from the lollipop bribes we were giving him)." I told her, 'It's not for him, it's for you to wipe the sweat off your forehead. I don't think you realize how much you have there. I'll get a wet one for him." She was pale when she left, her friend had his excess clothes he'd squirmed from and I think all of us felt totally depleted. In fact we all remarked about it and she said he'd sleep now for the rest of the night. I just wanted to crumple in a corner like the wicked witch who had a bucket of water thrown on her in The Wizard of Oz and just kind of cave in on myself. Dang I felt drained. If nothing else in his life traumatizes him, he'll have this haircut to refer to. I've just always had that effect on children, except my own, even two of my three grandkids swell up like roosters and start screaming when they see me.
Ah......I guess it's a Goddess given gift, huh? Boy am I proud of THAT one!!!
Okay and now we get to the Ugly. This is probably NOT something I should be talking about here but it's gone too far and now it involves my youngest son. Okay so he's 28 but still......he's my son!
First I have to say: "I am NOT a Cougar. Nor do I want a BOY TOY. Why is this so hard to get across to a certain person who is 23 years old and lives with a 44 year old woman? They are happy with their relationship, why drag me into it? But, no it happened. All I wanted was a rootbeer one day, this has been several months ago. He's a nice kid but then he starts talking about this crap and I told him, 'Look, I'm happily married, I'm not into that, and besides, you have your OLDER woman. Enjoy her." End of story.
NOT.
So recently, oh about two weeks ago, he sends a 'delicate' text to me. Well it was appalling actually. Visually appalling to me as I began to picture this awful scene in my head. I sent one back with two words STOP IT! He apologized. Then I deleted all my incoming and outgoing texts. How embarrassing if that should be found, right? He didn't so the same. A HUGE mistake on his part. But she found it and he apparently woke up to her beating on him wanting to know who I was. He tells her who I am and where I work and 'she's gonna have a talk with me'. She was a nice lady up until then. She looks kinda tough but I thought, well when she approaches me, we'll just talk, I'll explain her moron boyfriend to her.
On Halloween when I went to work she was at the door along with a greeter. She says, 'Are you Donna?' but the greeter was asking me questions about the costume I was wearing, etc. and I was late for work so I nodded my head at her and said, 'I've got to go for now.' I didn't think anymore about it. By then they had seemed to work it out and were getting engaged. Good for them. However, after seeing me in my costume I think she got mad all over again. Hell I'm a good ten years older than she is. Plus, I'm not into Boy Toys or men who are 5 years younger than my youngest son. That's just, well...ewwwwwwwww. In fact, I'm not into any men. I am MARRIED. Period. But now she's approached my son and asked, 'Is your mother Donna.'
Now my son is mentally challenged, slightly. You'd probably never guess it by looking at him. I had heard that my son and this woman had shared breakfast on occasion and I told this young kid NOT to tell her about my son and involve him. But he must have opened his young, stupid mouth.. That's all she said to him. At least that's all my son is saying about it. But now I'm PISSED. You've brought my son into something I'm not even responsible for. The Mother Lioness is emerging. Even though she will probably never be reading this, know this: I will NOT put up with your jealous crap. I don't want your youngster. Leave my son alone. Don't EVEN think about getting back at me through him. Come talk to me. This isn't high school. I'm not hiding or slinking around because some insane bitch is jealous. I do not want your boyfriend. Your baby boy friend at that. All I want is to be able to go over and buy a drink or a sandwich. I can't help it that he's a moron or thinks with a different part of his body rather than his brain. Come talk to me nicely. I will explain to you how youngsters make big mistakes and he's not thinking with his head. Then I'm going to ask her why she can't find a man her own age????? Then if it goes further I will contact your employer. I am not playing games.
End of story.
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