I was in line at the beauty supply , minding my own business, keeping my hands to myself, when suddenly this ancient memory came rushing at me:

There was a client in my chair, we’ll call her ‘betty’.
After creating a masterpiece and leaving ‘betty’ to admire her beauty, she decided to help herself to the contents of the drawers in my station. This, my friends, is never a good idea. Didn’t your mama teach you not to look in other people’s stuff?

Okay, Innocent enough, all she wanted was a comb.
She was triumphant.
Black Comb in hand she prepares to part her hair.

Oh no, “NO, NO, NOOOOO, STOP, STOP, THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK it is” I run like a woman with her hair on fire to the rescue. But, alas, I am too late. It’s too late, it’s entirely far too late.

The hair from the top of her head lays in a heap on the floor and we’re trying to figure out which stylist remembers CPR.
What she thought was a harmless comb, was indeed a comb, but,
with a very sharp razor in it.


bad hair day

A crafty tool of the trade, an ingenious invention, called the ‘carving comb’.
(now they come in purple and green to save all the other betty’s). To wield this tool, you must be clear on your direction, committed to your vision, you must have experience, you definitely need confidence. Until that moment it was a good day, every chair was full, the salon was humming, there were smiles all around and magic was being worked.

Like my grandma used to say, “it’s all fun and games until someone puts an eye out”.
God grant me the ability to learn from other people’s mistakes, and keep my hands out of other people’s stuff (especially in places where sharp objects may be hiding)

Do you have an unusual story about doing hair or having your hair done?
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.