Turn Around and Swim

Life | Lessons | Laughter | Love

Itchy, Itchy Critter Head

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Every four weeks for an hour and forty-five minutes I get a mommy break. I get to sip coffee, read Gossip magazines, wear a cape, look frazzled and have chemicals eating away at my scalp. The salon I go to when I need to wash my grays away also gives you a hand, arm and scalp massage. In the one and three quarter hours I am there, I relax, rejuvenate and get made all pretty. As a mom of three boys under the age of nine, sometimes this is how you have to get a break in. For some it is a shopping trip alone to the grocery store. You know when buying jar pasta sauce, tuna in a can and peanut butter takes four hours. Yet for you, wandering the aisles meditating to Kraft, Smuckers and Revlon is all it takes to stoke your inner being. I get it, I just prefer to sit and meditate while burning my scalp.

So you can all appreciate by reading my posts and following my blog how wild and crazy Me 4.0 can be at times. If you just ventured here via a Google search gone wrong or a 6.9 second blip across the WordPress topic screen, then stop right here. Read this first, Life In My Fast Lane. So, as you know or can see, if I can get 1.75 hours of chillaxin time humming to the tune of a hairdryer and lots of ladies yapping about nonsense, that to me is the equivalent as consuming a bottle of wine. Plus I do not have a two-day hangover afterwards either. Not that, that ever happens. Like ever. But you get the idea.

So a few days ago was mommy’s big night out. I found a parking spot that did not require a meter donation and ventured into my oasis spot. I chatted with my stylist a bit while she slapped the sticky brown chemicals on my head and then she set the timer of bliss. Now for the next forty-five minutes I can indulge in smut, sip a warm beverage and sit. Just sit. Bethenny Frankel‘s divorce was way too predictable and the fact that a princess is going to be a mama doesn’t really interest me. I’m happy and all for the Royal family and the soon to be little squirt but really, enough is enough. So, I open up my Whole Living Magazine and get caught up on the mind, body and soul connection. I mean it was only the August 2012 Edition. How do you say speed reader? I really should be on June 2013’s edition so I can get a head start on my Independence Day planning. I mean fireworks are nothing if you don’t have chia seed fruit pops in red, white and blue. That is the latest copy I received, right? Really, why do magazines do that?

Picture Courtesy of Google Images

Picture Courtesy of Google Images

Never mind. That is not important. What is important is the fact the very loud woman in the swivel chair next to me, caused me much anguish. You see somewhere between reading the ingredients for a Tahini-Mango smoothie to getting down with Deepak Chopra, I had a self-induced anxiety attack. After the ninth foil went into her bleach blonde hair, she proceeded to ask her stylist, “Did you happen to see any bugs?” Suddenly it was as if the power went out because the whole salon/spa became silent with the exception of someone’s eyebrow that just got waxed off. Did you say bugs lady?

Yes, oh yes, she did. She has lice. That is in, the present, right now, currently is with bugs. This is how you lay it down lady? This is how you break the news to your stylist? Because oh cancelling the appointment until you were bug free wouldn’t have been the wiser choice. Instead, this selfish little lady getting her hair all done up, relaxing to no avail with a bug infested head while I am squirming in my chair was the better option, right? But get this. The stylist keeps foiling and color applying. I would have put a bag over her head and escorted her out with some Aveda Comforting Tea.

Now there must be some sort of “never let the client see you sweat” protocol at the salon because I know the stylist was dying. I just do not get why she kept on going. Find a way to get off that head. Instead she brings a senior stylist over to talk product and bug zapper companies that can treat her head and home. That’s right, because white bugs can jump. In fact, they can jump very far. Possibly like right over to where my head, coat and purse were. They also like warm, clean, dim-lit spaces. Yes, well don’t we all after the age of 35? Now please get your head out of here.

I could see this wasn’t happening. I can appreciate the stylist’s professionalism. Even as the sweat beads ran down her forehead and she was basically in plank position applying the color she was all smiles and uh-huhs. Then she finished up and bolted. Great. What about me? That’s right, little miss I do everything for everyone just got selfish. What about me? I don’t want any bugs!

So, I took action. I got up and refilled my Aveda Comforting Tea multiple times, browsed the retail rack and scheduled 18 future appointments with the receptionist. As I watched from afar as she sat there sipping her coffee, getting fifty shades lighter and flipping through the Cosmo pages I couldn’t help but want to throw a bottle of Volumizer at her to go with her already inflated selfish little head. My timer was ticking away and I was loosing my precious mommy night out time to bug girl. Then she had the nerve along with the rest of the salon to look at me as to why I was wandering around aimlessly with my little black cape. So I sit back down. Then I starting thinking about all my friends and family who had lice and what they had to go through. It is unfortunate and I truly wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. But if you know you have an issue, don’t spread it. So I refill my tea for the tenth time and use the restroom for the sixth time.

Upon passing the shampoo bowl, I wanted to vomit thinking about how many bugs went swimming or will go swimming in there soon. I had to do something big. I only had fourteen minutes left on the ticker and then my mommy night out time would soon be up. No more sitting, sipping and browsing. It will be all over soon. If they weren’t going to move her, then I was going to move. So I venture out into the reception area. The staff at this point probably thought I was bloated with gas problems or going through some kind of substance withdrawal with all my movement, fidgeting and trips to the restroom. Plus I looked like Wonder Woman gone wrong.

It's mommy's turn and besides...I'm hot!(picture courtesy of Google Images)

It’s mommy’s turn and besides…I’m hot!
(picture courtesy of Google Images)

Ladies you know what I mean when you get your hair-colored but seriously I look like Medusa in a cape. Scary stuff. Funny as they wouldn’t put an end to bug girl but they asked if I wouldn’t mind going back into the style chair because they prefer no color get on the reception sofa. Oh but lice infesting the joint was A-Okay.

I knew I had to think big and act swiftly. So I gently loosen my smock cape just enough that it would “accidentally” drag on the floor and I refill my tea. Again. As I was proceeding back to the adjustable-height, swivel chair, I “accidentally” tripped over my smock cape and my tea went flying onto my chair, the floor and my station mirror. For all of you that frequent salons, then you know where there’s hair product there’s wire. My intentions were not to cause an electrical shortage. But those sparks registered on the magnitude of a bug zapper hanging from a tree in the night of summer. Several stylists ran over and asked if I was okay and not to worry about it. Then the magic words, “Why don’t you have a seat over here?” Finally. Now with four minutes left to shampoo bowl time, a self-induced anxiety attack and a detox cleanse in motion courtesy of the eight gallons of Aveda Comforting Tea I consumed, this mama is back in business. I refuse to ever be a victim. Ever!

Three days and counting I am still bug free and I am devising a future plan in the event the salon is too tight on customer service to decline a bug head. I really don’t blame them. I shame and blame critter head.

May you all begin your weekend with an itch free head. I’m still scratching mine in awe. Please do not get me wrong. I am not being insensitive or judgemental of the fact that this lady had lice. I could only imagine what she has been going through. The issue here is that she failed to disclose or be sensitive to the salon patrons and for goodness sake her stylist.

So, what would you do? Would you voice your concern or put yourself into cardiac arrest? Is it fair to others to come to a salon when you have lice without consulting with them before services begin? What crazy thing have you done to get out of a bad situation?

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Author: Turn Around and Swim Life | Lessons| Laughter | Love

Here are my little musings about life, lessons, laughter and love and how to face adversity in the most light-hearted and sometimes humorous ways possible. When life hands you lemons...do you make lemonade or throw them at people? It is not what is happening but how you respond to it that makes ALL the difference! You can't get anywhere doing the back float, you have to "turn around and swim!" So dive in and come from a swim! Feel free to come up for air and comment here and there! Oh and while you are here floating around, feel free to join the swim team! Hope you can keep up and if not, just "follow".

5 thoughts on “Itchy, Itchy Critter Head

  1. A great read, you had me in stitches! The bleach probably killed anything that was alive in there, but nevertheless you don’t go to the hairdresser’s when you know you have lice. It’s like walking into a hospital full of immunodepressed patients when you know you have the dreaded lurgy. The woman was lucky I wasn’t there; it would have been walking naked into a Roman arena full of lions and slathered in Bovril -I would have eaten her alive. I would have thrown the tea at her, not on the floor…..

  2. That is one scary event. I work in the health profession and lice freaks us out too. But I think for those with lice and still go to a public place for hair job fully knowing they can infect others is simply wrong. It’s like having flu. If I have flu and I know I am infectious, it is never fair to go around sneezing in crowded places where I may infect someone. Great post1

  3. Pingback: The true story of Larry the Louse. | Multifarious meanderings

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