Stop Teasing Me!

So I had my first Texas haircut late last week.

I went to the salon, sat down, and told the lady, “I’m not sure what’s wrong with my hair – it just won’t hold a style down here in Texas! Maybe I’m not using the right product or something. As soon as I go outside, it goes completely flat.”

Stylist: “What styling tools do you own?”

Me: “Well, let’s see, I have a hair dryer, a flat iron, a set of hot rollers, a curling iron, and an entire collection of round brushes in various sizes.”

Stylist: “Do you have a teasing comb?”

Me: (picturing my mother in the 60’s) “A what?”

Stylist: (ever so condescendingly) “A teasing comb. It’s how you get your hair to stay where you want it.”

Me: “Um, no. Where do you get one?”

Stylist: (suspicious that I probably won’t buy one on my own and probably a little horrified I have no idea where to buy one) “Here, I’m going to give you mine. Keep it in your purse, honey. You’ll need it to spruce things up a bit if you’ve been out and about.” (she then proudly presents me with a hot pink teasing comb and shows me how to use it)

Me: “Wow. This really does work. And I don’t look like I have a beehive!”

Stylist: “Do you wash your hair every day?”

Me: “Yes, why?”

Stylist: “That’s terrible for your hair, honey. All you do when you wake up in the morning is tease it up a little, and it will look good as new!”

Well, darned if she wasn’t right. And I don’t look crazy or anything. My hair just looks like it's been freshly blown dry. Gary can't run his fingers through it anymore, but after 7 years of marriage, that doesn't really happen much anyway.

You know what they say – the higher the hair, the closer to God! Ha ha.

I think I’m officially a Texan now…