The word about hairbrushing?
Several words, actually, come to mind, those words being “do it” and “yes, please”.
Nothing says “relax” like someone brushing your hair; or, to be more specific, nothing says “relax” more than someone brushing my hair.
It all started in third grade. As the descendant of thick-haired people, I was the one, during The Showing of the Film Strips, to be at the front of the chain of girls who lined up to brush and braid each other’s hair.
To this day, my head tingles when a movie starts.
Of course, if you neither have hair nor are you interested in brushing and/or braiding mine, the next best thing that says “relax” is a warm bath.
And if you don’t like warm baths, then I’m afraid I can’t help you.
Why am I telling you this?
I had my hair cut and colored yesterday. This is one of my favorite things, right up there with getting a massage, having a handsome man wink at me, or finding a twenty-dollar bill in an unused purse.
I’ve been going to Donna at Hairitage now for a good five years, after my previous hairdresser developed a serious drug problem and disappeared.
I’m pretty sure, by the way, that I had nothing to do with that.
Donna and I share, as many hairdressers/clients do, the details of our lives: our morbid fascination with serial killers, our love of garage sales, our joint disdain of people who leave their homes in pajama bottoms and slippers.
Beyond our mutual agreements, however, is the fact that Donna does exactly what you hope she can do; fix your hair so that you leave looking like the best possible version of yourself. Curly, straight, swept up? What? You’re going out tonight? Hey, let’s do party hair!
And now, just hours before Misfit Christmas, I have party hair.
And I’m relaxed.
A Little Trust
14 hours ago