…was the day of truth and I’m happy to report that I had a fine experience at Toni & Guy’s house of learning.
I marched in with my magazine pictures of what I had in mind and (I’m fairly certain) signed a document that waived all my rights to my own hair. I met my stylist-in-training Megan and breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t have a faux hawk, mohawk or a graduated mullet. She looked fairly normal and seemed like a downright nice person.
Now, the relationship between the stylist (even stylists-in-training) and the stylee is one built on trust and respect…I had to trust that she wouldn’t make me look freakish and I also had to respect the power she wielded of chemical agents and sharp, pointy scissors all at her disposal. We chatted amicably and I learned about her siblings, the book she was reading (The Shack), her husband and son, and that she was a fellow Kris Allen fan. I knew I liked her.
All this while she was doing my highlights and lowlights, but everything smelled so darn good that it seemed more like she was assembling a fruit salad on my head. What she was actually doing, however, was dabbing my hair with layers and layers of chemicals.
As promised, the instructors roamed the room to make sure their fledgling apprentices didn’t maim or destroy anyone on their watch. I heard (again) shock and awe at how fine, yet completely thick my hair is. Tell me about it, people. I can’t hold a curl to save my life.
Four hours later, I emerged a new woman. I got a cut and color for half the cost of a normal place and a whole new identity to boot. Maybe now I’ll wake up on a boat somewhere and have amnesia and eventually find out that I’m a rogue agent for a black ops division of the government…or, maybe that’s someone else. 🙂
Here’s some pictures! If you don’t like them, well, it’s a little late now. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
This shows the cut pretty good…
Here’s the color, though the lighting wasn’t really my friend.