“Are you still seeing Chuck?” Mona asked me.
“Really?” Does that mean she stopped seeing him and is getting her hair cut elsewhere? She’s the reason I found out about Chuck in the first place. She’s the one who told me to go to him… What is she insinuating?
“What do you mean ‘why’? The leaning in?”
I ran my fingers through my recently trimmed and colored hair. Ever since seeing Chuck, I’d never gotten such compliments on my hair color. He was a hair whisperer. He mixed colors in a way nobody else ever could.
“Well. I… uhm….”
She’s appalled. I can tell she’s appalled. That means he leaned into her the same way he leans into me. With his hips just so. I remember the first time he leaned in. I moved away in the chair thinking he needed the space. Or something. But he only took over the recently free’d space. Inching in closer. He was all over my shoulder, my upper arm. That was the first contact.
“What? So he leans in a bit. Look at my hair!”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Where else am I going to get foils of different colors, a cut AND a massage for only $40?” I asked her.
“A massage? He’s giving you a massage?”
Did I just say that? Did I really just say that last part out loud?
“Didn’t he massage you too?”
“Wait. Where’s he touching you?”
“In the salon” I impishly answered.
“Where Marie as in on your body? Is it just the head?”
“Oh my god Marie. This is not normal!”
“Mona. Look at my hair! The highlights. The lowlights. The different shades. It’s amazing! I’ve never looked so good! So what if he’s helping me relax a little bit.” Do not mention the invitation to go in on Tuesday when nobody is there so he can give me a full body massage. Do not mention it. Do not mention the hand vibrating attachment. Don’t. Whatever you do don’t talk about the ‘vibrator’.
“HE should be paying YOU” she laughed at me.
“But, didn’t he massage you too? Not even a little bit?”
“I stopped seeing him after the second visit where he leaned into me.” She did? She never told me that. All this time I thought she was keeping quiet about it. Like I was. It was the only thing that made it bearable for me. Knowing she was putting up with his hairy Lebanese fingers just as I was. But that vibrating thing feels so goooood on my shoulders.
Should I tell her about it? No. She’ll think less of me.
“Really! How long ago was that? You never mentioned anything.” I nervously ran my hand through my hair hoping to reveal more of its colors and hues.
‘I stopped going there over a year ago!” It took a year to progress from his pelvis pushing into my shoulder to having him undo the top buttons of my blouse and offer a full body massage? Funny how time flies.
“I don’t know if I should tell you this but…”
“There’s more?” Oh god. Backtrack. Retreat. Stop. Don’t talk! DO NOT MENTION THE VIBRATOR DO NOT MENTION THE VIBRATOR! STOP!
“He uses this thing that straps to his hand, and-”
“A vibrator? He’s using a vibrator on you? Marie! Holy crap!”
“It’s not normal? He said it helps for the color to stick if I’m relaxed.” There. That might convince her I’m not allowing myself to be used by the hairdresser.
“You need to stop going. Tell me you’re not going there anymore.” Bye-bye great hair.
I shrugged. “Sure. Yeah-yeah. I’ll stop.” What do I do? Do I call him and cancel the full body massage? Or do I go, take advantage of it and then end it.
“Marie. No ‘yeah-yeah’. Tell me you won’t go anymore.” Dammit.
“Right. OK. Do you have another hairdresser you can recommend?”
This falls under two prompts. One is the Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge: The Best Medicine where the purpose is to focus on humor in a post. It also falls well into this week’s prompt at Studio 30 Plus: ELUSIVE.
I’m not going to tell you if this is a true story or not. It may not make you see me in a positive light. Ahem. Look! SQUIRREL!