#Modified high school essay format with cussing

[imdoingwhateverisnext]

Hair Day! (A modified essay)

Going to the hair salon is a treat I use once or twice per year. I love my hairdresser. She has been my only hairdresser for 20 years. She has been employed at several different salons, and I just follow her wherever she goes. She knows my quirks, weirdness, and she is a great conversationalist. Not to mention she does a great hair. She's honest and teaches me techniques and products to use, so I will know how to fix it myself when I am at home. I know I sound like I am possibly singing her praises too much. This girl was subpoenaed by my ex to testify during our divorce, and she showed up reluctantly and sat with me the entire time. She lost an entire day of work, but she still had my back. I am forever loyal for this reason in addition to her skills as a hairdresser.

Having said all of that, I have a couple of gripes. She knows what they are because I don't like to say something behind someones back if I am not willing to say it to his or her face. It is a policy of mine. My first complaint has nothing to do with her really, but the lighting in this place is extremely unflattering compared to some of the other places I have been to. I am not a fan of mirrors in general except for utilitarian purposes (fixing makeup or hair). I am not a fan of staring at myself in harsh lighting while she colors or cuts my hair. I either look down or have her turn the chair so I don't have to look. It is one of my quirks and she understands it.

The last time she colored, cut and styled my hair for me, it was perfect, and looked really nice, even in the bad lighting. I usually have to adjust my bangs, move my part over or something. It usually is just a little bit off from how I like it to fall around my face. This time I didn't have to make any changes to what she had done. I smiled and she could see how happy I was. My response is normally underwhelming, even though I always like the end result. This could be a personality thing or a spectrum thing, I am not sure. She grabbed the hand held mirror and said, "Here, you have to look at the back of your hair, it looks so pretty!"

I was initially skeptical, but it looked so good in the front. I took the mirror and turned around to see my hair in the other mirror. I glanced at the pretty colors and layers, then and my eyes immediately moved down to my ass. "Oh no!" I shook my head and tilted the mirror different angles so I could be sure of what I was actually seeing.

It was obvious to me at this moment that this day was not going to end well.

"What is it? You don't like the back?" Her big eyes showed the concern on her face. She is very transparent, a quality I like.

"No, the hair is nice. It is my ass! I thought it looked better than this. Oh my God. Why did you make me look at my ass? I could have gone all day believing my ass looked decent. I could have gone the rest of my life really. Now I have a problem. Thanks Sheila!" This is not great for my self esteem; which has taken many hits over the past few years.

"I didn't tell you to look at your ass."

"No but you should have known I would! Now I have to intensify my workouts and start fasting again, or just accept having a shitty ass. It's just too much!" I pouted a few minutes then took out my money. She laughed at me. I gave her the usual hug, paid her and thanked her. I probably won't see her for another 6 months.

When I left the salon, it was lightly misting outside. I popped into the salon supply store to get the product she had used on my hair, then I drove home. By the time I got there, I looked like a lightly rained on long-haired dachshund. My hair was somehow both frizzy AND flat! I don't know how it continues to defy hair physics, but it does. It looked really bad.

For the nostalgia of the "good old days" of high school essay writing, I shall summarize with the lamest possible closing paragraph, AKA- 'Saying what you have already said'. I have done this more often than I shall admit.

In conclusion, my hair dresser is great, the salon lighting sucks, the top of my ass looks weird, and I now have upper ass issues. The day started out good. There was great hair, bonding time with my friend, and it somehow quickly deteriorated into me standing in front of my mirror saying, "fuck this day. I look like a wet dog, and I have a terrible ass".

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

It could happen.