An Open Letter to My Hairstylist in Good Times and Bad
Honestly, we don’t have to be honest.
Dear Hairstylist,
I’m sorry, I lied to you.
I’m sorry, it’s been going on for a while now.
You see, you make me feel so good about my hair, and the least I can do is try to NOT make you feel sh*tty in return.
Let’s rewind.
The lies started years ago, after a time in my life when it wouldn’t even occur to me to fib to my hairstylist.
Back then you would ask me, “so, how’s work going?” and I would answer with a wide smile, “great, almost finished teaching the semester.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Is that genuine sincerity I detect? How sweet!
Then, you would ask, “did you take the day off to come in this afternoon?” and I would respond blushing, “actually, I only teach in the mornings, so I always have the afternoons off.”
“Mm Hmm.” A little suspicious, I see. OK. Touché.
Later on, you would inquire, “so are you taking any vacation during the holiday season?” and as honest as tight white pants in the rain, I would say “well, yes, I am heading to Brazil.” “Oh, for how long?” “Most of the winter. Two or three months at least.”
Silence. A wave of flabbergastation passes over your face.
You stutter with a whirlwind of follow-up questions, but then toss each one in the trash bin, individually, like a series of useless crumpled-up papers.
Your facial expression tells me the whole story: we were sailing in a hot air balloon ride when I burst the balloon and you are preparing for a crash landing. And now I am too.
Let’s face it. You were probably having a perfectly fine day, not in any way ruminating over the double shift you were working that day nor the mere 2 days you would have off for the holidays: Christmas and Boxing Day.
It dawned on me that day that no one wants to hear about my lucky stars or golden ticket to Willy Wonka's, and ever since I’ve been lying to you through my teeth.
Now, you will ask me, “so, how is work going?” and I will say “oh, if only it weren’t so busy and stressful.”
“I totally know what you mean.” The empathy meter fires up.
Then, you will ask, “did you take the day off to come in this afternoon?” and I will say “yes, I had to reschedule several meetings, but alas, I made it!”
“I’m so glad you did.” Was that a hand patting my shoulder?
Later on, you will ask “so are you taking any vacation this holiday season?” and I will muster “if only I could.” “Not even Christmas and Boxing Day?” “Well, only if I’m lucky.”
I look up and soak in your bright sunny smile. You walk around my chair with pride and grace. I think I feel the start of a head massage.
In this moment, I suspect I did the right thing. I suspect the lies were worth it.
All in all, maybe I am not that sorry for lying, but this is my truth. You tell me, did I do the right thing?
Sincerely,
Lamenting Lying Locks of Hair
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