‘Twas two nights before Christmas, when I looked at my roots
And declared then and there, I should do something, SOON.
All my regular stylists were busy already,
with clients who didn’t procrastinate heavily.
So with gift card in hand and some reckless abandon,
I called a salon and begged my locks lightened.
The stylists were nestled with their hands in one’s heads,
while visions of Biolage conditioned their dreads.
With one in a burka and I in my coat,
I searched for the one that might cause me to gloat.
When out of the back there arose such a clatter,
I looked up and saw what, indeed, was the matter.
For standing there waiting to greet me, her client,
was a girl fresh from high school, still awaiting her moment.
I followed her, slowly, I crept to her station.
I bemoaned it already, my keen sense: trepidation.
For how would a girl whom I sure could have birthed,
give me and my locks the lift we deserved?
But onward I pressed, reading “People” to help me,
she washed and she cut, then applied color liberally.
When what to my wondering watch should appear,
it had been THREE WHOLE HOURS and I was STILL HERE!
I spoke not a word, but was reaching ballistic
when she finally quit drying and asked, “Do you like it?”
I looked and quite frankly, I didn’t much care.
All I wanted was to get the crap OUT OF THERE.
“It’s great!” I lied and I jumped up to pay,
but the gift card I had was causing delay.
I just couldn’t take anymore so I said,
“It’s your problem now – I’m going home to bed.”
I sprang to my car and sped home to my people,
where dinner was made and o’er food we did mingle.
Blah blah blah, I can’t rhyme anymore. The point is I paid way too much money for a girl who probably asked for Polly Pockets from Santa for Christmas last year to cut and color my hair and I almost had another birthday while I waited. When I came home and regaled my tale of unfairness and OH THE HUMANITY to my husband he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around why this was such an injustice. While he spared me the line about starving children in Africa I detected a bit of sarcasm as he grabbed me in a hug and said, “It’s okay, you’re home with us now.” Indeed there are bigger problems in the world, but still. THREE HOURS? I should have at least thrown something in the crock pot before I left.