Geriatric
Geriatric
An aged person.
My last blog about the newspapers would be fun in a movie, but this morning's adventure was such a movie moment for me. I had class at 8:30 and got out just before 10:00. My day was packed with a couple outings. I have been craving a new hairstyle, mostly a new color. This spring/summer was a little rough on me hair wise. I went from brown, added some blond streaks, then had a mega blond moment, a little pink for a day, bright bright red and then toned down the red and left it a bit auburn-ish. Lately its been rather blah. A friend came to visit and her hair is freshly black, which just looks awesome. I was again inspired to touch up my own locks and go a little dark.
So, I made my way to the mall - with sandals on of course - and headed to the one and only hair salon in there. I told the man at the counter what I wanted, he seemed rather confident, price was fair enough, so I took the plunge. As I'm sitting in the chair, towel and cape around me, waiting for the dye to be made, I start to look around. No word of a lie, I was the youngest person in the salon by at least 50 years!!! People were getting their hair done in wheelchairs and those fancy motorized chairs that grandma's drive around malls in. I suddenly realized that I was VERY out of place. By this time, it was too late. I had committed and the deal was made. My "wanna-be-trendy" hair was in the hands of a lady who was a likely candidate for my Oma's neighbor. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with this scenario - but at the same time it seemed SOO wrong. This is when I went into movie mode. I could hear the creepy organ music in the background, the hairstylists began to move in slow motion, everyone stared in wonder and the laughter turned into evil mockery. So it wasn't that bad, but it was weird...
The good news is that I ended up with the chocolate brown hair that I was craving and a little trim to satisfy my anti-split-ends attitude. My hair was teased a bit beyond my comfort, but I was able to tone it down right before I met my dad for lunch. Perhaps in my movie, a character can leave from the salon and spot a newspaper truck on fire on the way home... I totally think it could work!
"Cletus: I don't want to hear about you old-ass geriatrics
Granny: Oh, yeah Cletus? Me and Isaac might be dried up geriatrics, but ain't nothing wrong with Isaac'a love tackle."
- Nutty Professor II: The Klumps
An aged person.
My last blog about the newspapers would be fun in a movie, but this morning's adventure was such a movie moment for me. I had class at 8:30 and got out just before 10:00. My day was packed with a couple outings. I have been craving a new hairstyle, mostly a new color. This spring/summer was a little rough on me hair wise. I went from brown, added some blond streaks, then had a mega blond moment, a little pink for a day, bright bright red and then toned down the red and left it a bit auburn-ish. Lately its been rather blah. A friend came to visit and her hair is freshly black, which just looks awesome. I was again inspired to touch up my own locks and go a little dark.
So, I made my way to the mall - with sandals on of course - and headed to the one and only hair salon in there. I told the man at the counter what I wanted, he seemed rather confident, price was fair enough, so I took the plunge. As I'm sitting in the chair, towel and cape around me, waiting for the dye to be made, I start to look around. No word of a lie, I was the youngest person in the salon by at least 50 years!!! People were getting their hair done in wheelchairs and those fancy motorized chairs that grandma's drive around malls in. I suddenly realized that I was VERY out of place. By this time, it was too late. I had committed and the deal was made. My "wanna-be-trendy" hair was in the hands of a lady who was a likely candidate for my Oma's neighbor. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with this scenario - but at the same time it seemed SOO wrong. This is when I went into movie mode. I could hear the creepy organ music in the background, the hairstylists began to move in slow motion, everyone stared in wonder and the laughter turned into evil mockery. So it wasn't that bad, but it was weird...
The good news is that I ended up with the chocolate brown hair that I was craving and a little trim to satisfy my anti-split-ends attitude. My hair was teased a bit beyond my comfort, but I was able to tone it down right before I met my dad for lunch. Perhaps in my movie, a character can leave from the salon and spot a newspaper truck on fire on the way home... I totally think it could work!
"Cletus: I don't want to hear about you old-ass geriatrics
Granny: Oh, yeah Cletus? Me and Isaac might be dried up geriatrics, but ain't nothing wrong with Isaac'a love tackle."
- Nutty Professor II: The Klumps
posted by Karyn at 3:12 PM
2 Comments:
sorry -- pesky spelling errors... I know your anxiety well. As good as my hair may look occasionally days, I have in my day been to one or two sketchy salons. The lesson i learned. Don't let a lady who clearly doesn't speak english cut your hair -- you will likely end up with a bowl cut and despite your request for just a trim, your shoulder length hair will undoubtedly end up almost at your chin right before a very important trip out of town.
he he he! At least you didn't come out with a blue rinse! I have this image of your hair stylist suddenly grabbing a curling iron and the organ music rushing to a dramatic intensity. I'm glad that it turned out, you should send me a picture!
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