Salon Time

           "I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her and that is the beginning of everything." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

           What a challenging day; let me say that I am glad its over. I finally gave in decided to get my highlights redone because they had probably grown out 2 inches at least. Since not many people here have natural blonde hair (or even fake blonde hair), I was putting it off because I was nervous, it would be expensive, and kind of a hassle. After telling my sister-in-laws about it, they set up a time.

            After work today my sister Nada picked me up and the driver dropped us off at the salon. I went inside and it was amazing. The walls and ceiling were gold with all sorts of designs and textures and patterns. I tried to take a picture of the ceiling, then Nada tried after me and promptly got in trouble by the manager. Obviously, salons here are all girls, and no one wants their picture taken by a stranger with no veil on. Hints the no camera rule.

            Anyways, we walked in and talked to one of the hair stylists. She asked to see my hair. Once I pulled off my veil, I could feel all the eyes in the room turn to me. Then the lady revealed that blonde color ran out.

            So we went to the next one. Same drill. Took off veil. Eyes on me. Blonde color ran out. (I couldn’t tell if so many people wanted it and that’s why it was gone or if it was not used much and it happened to run out) Nada made me think it was the first one.

            By the time we got to the 3^rd salon, I felt discouraged. This one had a lot of women in it too, so I slightly dreaded taking off my veil. The hairdresser came over to the front. I took off my veil and all eyes were on me. We were kind of making a scene honestly. Nada is translating, the cashier calls over the hair dresser, I take my hair out of the braid, they are all looking at me and talking loudly about my blonde hair. Finally, I was pleased to hear that she could do it. I paid the amount and sat down, hoping to disappear.

            Nada got her eyebrows done first. Apparently, people here get their eyebrow area colored however they want. The actual eyebrow hair is no concern. It is a little bit like henna, just stains the skin in the size and shape of the eyebrow you want.

            My turn. And I had hoped that Nada had put me and my Moroccan hairdresser on the same page. I showed her the ends of my hair. We established that she would make my roots the same. I just have simple light blonde highlights over my dark blonde hair, so I though it would be easy.

            To my horror, the woman started painting all my roots with bleach. ALL. Even the lower section, which has no color on it! My hairdresser in the States just picks out the smallest strands, paints them, and puts them in foil!!

            So I freaked out for a while and thought, oh well, can’t stop her now. I was shoved off to the side for 30 minutes while it sat. The strength of the color was a concern to me. It was burning my skin and my eyes. I can’t imagine how much is in my blood stream at the moment.

            After what seemed like forever, I had my hair washed out by a different woman. Then she started drying it. Upon looking in the mirror, I realized my hair looked awful. It wasn’t the right color at all. Didn’t match. I told Nada and she told the lady. She assure me that she would darken it a little; so I relaxed slightly.

This is when hair loss became my concern. The woman who was drying my hair was pulling and brushing so hard I wanted to cry. I don’t have much hair on my head to lose! It isn’t thick! She was also burning my head with the hair dryer.            

Relief was upon me when that was over. Now it was time to wait. Some girl had an appointment and she went ahead of us (Nada led me to believe that no one makes appointments). By then I was starving because I went to work at 11:30 and only ate a small breakfast before. Got out at 4 and went straight to the salon! And it was taking forever.

            Once it was my time again, they put a cap on my head. You know, the kind that they pull hair through for minimal highlights. Except for this cap wasn’t disposable, they re-use it! It was seriously almost exactly like a bouncey ball cut in half. It was stretchy, thick, and rubbery. So she shoved that on my head and started roughly pulling all my hair through. This never feels pleasant, but this lady was really aggressive.

            So she starts painting my head again, with what I think is dye (not bleach). Well, I know the smell of bleach and it was bleach. I thought, “Oh good, she is bleaching the same hair all over again on the same day; hope it doesn’t fall out.” After I basically panicked all over again inside myself, she wrapped it all up with foil and gave us more time to wait. At this point, we had been there 3 hours. I was really sick of it.

            Time to rinse. She yanks the cap off my head and washes it. Then she tells me that she is now going to dye it darker. “Oh good, a third batch of chemicals to kill my hair a little more, good thinking lady.”

            So I sat and waited for that to soak in. Another wash. At this point I just wanted to sprint out of there. But my hair was so tangley and wet that I couldn’t.

While she was brushing my hair, she told Nada that people had been talking about my hair color and asking if she had colored it like that (I want to be clear, that was my natural color. She did not make it look good). That explained all the stares I was getting.

My torment continued as she proceeded to brush my hair more aggressively than the first lady. She actually took the brush and swung it in downward motions, catching my hair and yanking out the knots. It hurt so bad. I saw her find some really small knots and with her own hands rip it off. “That is my hair you idiot! Oh yeah, and I actually have sensation on my scalp so that hurts!”            

            After what seemed like an entire day in the salon, she was done brushing and drying me hair. I looked in the mirror. “Oh good, you did gray highlights. That is what I wanted.” Then she pulled this “Oh when you wash it twice the color will be blonde. It has to be that color now or it would be orange.” (she said that in Arabic). I’ll believe it after 2 washes.

            I basically paid this woman to: rip out my hair, color it 3 different times, burn my scalp with a hair dryer, and waste 4 hours of my life (yes, we were there from 5- 9 pm; not joking).

            Conclusion: I wasn’t a hippie before, but I am now on the hair topic. I am going all-natural. My head is mad at me for good reason, and basically in horrible condition. I swear she poked holes in my scalp. It burned in specific pinpoint areas when she applied the color. I will fix my hair to its former glory with home remedies. And in December, God willing, my awesome hair stylist will color it the natural color and I hope I can have all this behind me.