Once upon a time, in North Carolina (yeah, the Land Far, Far Away), I went to a hairdresser recommended by a friend for a trim. I was so pleased that over the course of several years, I let her do whatever she wanted with my hair, within certain parameters (I was still Active Duty and had regulations to deal with). I hated to leave her; she and Wilber’s BBQ are the only things I miss to this day.
Over the next several years I kept my hair long, mostly because I didn’t find anyone who could manage my mop like my NC Hair Whisperer. My hair is thick, so long began to get very heavy. It was giving me headaches and was usually in a pony tail to keep it out of my face. When we got here, I went to one of the dreaded Chain Hair Cutteries and had the length brought up. By chance, one day, I stopped into the beauty shop across the street from the Day Job for a trim. I went back again when Vicky needed a hair cut, and when I went short, I went there, too. I was so happy! I found my new Hair Whisperer!
Alas, they closed the shop. The Mom had back problems and couldn’t work much, and the Daughter (aka Hair Whisperer) couldn’t handle it all on her own. There was much sadness, and the search for a new Hair Whisperer began.
There is a happy ending. I got a letter yesterday saying they’re sorry, they didn’t know what they were thinking, and they’re re-opening the shop! Woo hoo! I’ll be cute again! (And if I take the letter with me when I go to get my hair trimmed, I’ll get 10% off!)