This post could have so many titles.
I couldn't pick just one, so I will go through the options.
1. I am a hypocrite.
Okay, so I blubbered on about how un-Orange County I am the other day. Well, there is still a little OC in me. I really need to get my fake blonde on.
Look at my roots!!!!!!!!2. My kid loves me.
Of course she does, right? Well, she loves me enough to let me get my fake blonde on and not make a peep the entire time we are at the "salon" (read further to see why salon is in quotes.) She came genetically wired to know that a blonde mommy is a happier mommy.
Here is where she sat while I was slathered in bleach.3. What I will do to save money.
Look at the sweet wallpaper in the picture below. Would you like for me to find out where it is from so you can get your own? How about those amazing pictures. I am guessing there isn't much demand for those haircuts these days. Probably not, since it has been the same since 1980! I don't call my fake blonde wonderland a salon. More like what a movie set would look like if the scene called for the creepiest hair styling shop possible.
So why do I go there?
Well, would I enjoy sipping a latte, reading gossip mags and relaxing? Absolutely. Do I like holding my own foils, being in pain at the horribly rigged shampoo bowl and going home with wet unbrushed hair? No.
But, do I like saving $100 every 6-8 weeks by sacrificing ambiance for frugality? You betcha.
4. No, you can't pinch the baby.
So, the average client at this "salon" is 85 or so and is most likely getting a perm.
Yes, a perm.
When I was there this morning there were 5 sweet ladies with rows and rows of the little rollers in their silver hair.
It brings me back to fourth grade. Let me just tell you, perms smell bad.
Really, really, really bad.
I texted my friend who is also brave enough to get her fake blonde on there too.
"Does perm smell poison babies?"
She didn't text back. Bad sign.
So while I was waiting in a rickety chair with my head full of foils and my nose full of perm solution, one of the ladies asked me a peculiar question.
"Can I pinch the baby?"
I sort of just stared at her. She asked again. Louder and more serious.
"Can I pinch the baby?"
I have never been more thankful for the carseat tent. I just smiled and replied "She's sleeping."
"CAN I PINCH THE BABY!!!!!!!!!!!"
Seriously? Really? You can see the baby. You can coo at the baby. Heck, you can even touch the babies feet. Am I weird for drawing the line at pinching?
Hide your babies Orange County! There is a perm getting, baby pinching, grandma on the loose!!!! She won't take your polite redirection for an answer either.
But we made it. My blonde is back, my hair is wet and tangled and Janey survived the perm fumigation pinch free.