#158 - Don't Like Searching for a Stylist

Who's Going to Cut My Hair?

Since my last fretful post, I decided it was time for a trim. After 10 salon-free months, I was happy to pay a professional... even if there was hardly anything to cut. I already knew I wasn't going back to my old hairdresser. I decided that, 10 months ago. This photo shows my hair a few days after it was last cut, but on the day it was cut, I wasn't smiling with my stylist. 

 

I remember sitting in the salon chair, feeling like I was in a fog. I had just learned I had cancer and my stylist (of 15 years) offered such distracted, phony support, I was confused and hurt. I swore I would never return.
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​My Barbers?
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​I could have just gone back to my good barbers! Don was wonderful with my initial hair shaving and a few good trims.

But he is not a pro. My buddy, A.D. from Richmond Barber Shop shaved my head last October with such warmth and patience. But now I need someone who can work with me to find flattering short cuts... for women.

My Wig Trimmer

​During my wig days, I was lucky to find a stylist who was talented in wig trimming and apparently had skills for post chemo hair. But in November, after an odd wig trimming experience, I swore I would never return to her. (Blog #115 )

Maybe I've been overly sensitive these past months. But I've also learned, life is too short to settle for service or people who don't treat you well. There are lots of good people out there.  But where are they?
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The Search
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​I hoped to find a stylist who could help me grow my hair out gracefully AND deal with my tricky hair... with its varied textures, lengths and colors. I called up support groups and Googled for local stylists. But I came up with nothing.

I got a couple salon suggestions from friends, but one stylist wouldn't call me back and another said she wasn't taking new clients.  I sulked.

Then I got on Facebook and felt worse. I allowed myself to look at the FB page of a friend who died of breast cancer a few years ago. I looked at her photos, as if she could offer me support with her brave smile. But it made me sad to see her. It was a little scary too, to see a little of me in her photos... smiling with her bald head or new hair growth. I had to stop looking.

My Appointment

​I ended up contacting my friend Cheryl, who happens to have very cute short hair. I got an appointment with her stylist and felt a little silly when I said, "I'm not even sure what you can cut!"

But suddenly Christina was shampooing my hair and we were laughing and chatting. Once I was seated in front of the mirror, she put all her focus on me. She was sort of delighted with my finger waves and my little swirls here and there. She went after my longer, white hairs that stick out oddly.  And she seemed to understand my chemo curls. I felt safe.

She understood I wanted to grow my hair longer, but she helped me feel confident about what I have on my head now. "I don't know... your eyes really stand out with your short hair!" And she seemed sincere.

A Difference?
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​There wasn't a ton of my hair on the floor when Christina finished, but I felt like a huge weight had lifted.

Most people probably wouldn't see much difference, but I felt like a new person when I left. I just felt less sloppy, after things had been trimmed and evened up.  Mostly, I felt relieved to know I now have someone I think I can trust in the months ahead, to face this hair growth thing. That is, if I decide to grow it!