My hair reached critical mass. Well, it reached it a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t appointment time yet. My loyalty to a great stylist who works in another state means scheduling haircuts way in advance. Some stylists don’t cut a curly girl’s mop differently than straight locks. The poor results: the dreaded frizz triangle. I’ll wait for my seasoned pro.
This time, my slot landed in the humid month of August. My straightened hair fell nearly to my waist–a real pain in the neck. I sat in the swivel chair wearing one of those billowy black capes. I tilted my head and asked, “How much would be left if I donated my hair?”
Salon Enso sends unprocessed hair to organizations like Wigs for Kids and Locks of Love. I shipped off my long curly tresses twice before, so I knew a significant amount like 10 inches would be cut. My stylist squared her shoulders, sized up the situation, and leaned in to mark a place just above my clavicles. “You would still be able to pull it back low, away from your face. Not much for a high ponytail though.” She made upward tossing gestures with her hands, and I imagined myself with a spiky tuft like a giggly toddler. There’s always headbands.
“Ok. Let’s do it.” I sat back and my stylist went to work cutting, washing, drying, shaping. The salon uses organic products from Aveda. My eyes never water there. The space is fresh and pleasant, the polar opposite to places reeking of permanents and harsh coloring chemicals. You return to areas you feel relaxed in. Ahhh.
She finished and spun me around. She handed me a big mirror to check out my sleek new do. Loved it. I gave her a hug and smiled brightly. I settled up with the cashier and exited into the summer heat, enjoying the breeze on my neck. A weight off my shoulders will transform into a beautiful gift.
Have you ever donated your hair? What do you like about visiting a hair salon or barbershop? Did something funny ever happen to your hair? Tell me about it.