twitsandblobs

Beauty Parlors, or Hair Salons as we now call them, are clearly Satan’s workshop.  Vanity, vanity, vanity.  Gossip, gossip, gossip.  Mirrors everywhere!  And magazines full of new ideas for blowing your money on frivolous things, newer, improved methods of preserving your youth and your sexy body.  And guess what?? If you don’t have those things today, you can still have them tomorrow.  The magazines have names that allure, deceive, tempt and titillate.  Lucky!  Cosmopolitan!  Shape! Style!  Glamour!  People!  They are full of coupons for plastic surgery and justifications for buying a pair of overpriced shoes that,

A) hurt like hell -of course..hell again-and,

B) only go with one other item of clothing.

In theory, I am opposed to all things shallow, superficial and wasteful.  But, gee whiz gang, I just gotta admit that when beauty parlor day rolls around, I sort of get all worked up about it.  First of all, it is the one day that I really plan my outfit.  Why, you ask?   Isn’t that sort of like cleaning up the house so the maid won’t be horrified?   Please let me explain.  I do it because the place will be crawling with women looking at each other, checking out the wrappings so to speak.  They will be reviewing you from every angle and every mirror.  The irony of this is that they will be doing this with foil in their hair, strategically placed to keep the colors burning into your scalp even and smooth but, in reality, converting the place into a pseudo sci-fi transmission lab.  Really.  Unexpectedly, my poor husband kindly walked in one day to hand over keys or information or something like that and was nearly scared out of his wits when he saw me in my aluminum millinery, and another woman he knows well in her brackish stripes of eyebrow dye.  Think about it.  This was his very own Nightmare on Magnolia Street.  He sort of gasped when he saw me in such a state, and quickly turned away from me only to find woman #2 staring at him and snickering from underneath her Elvira brows.  Soon, there was a cacophony of satanic peals of laughter echoing throughout the hall of mirrors. All this as blasts of hot air were hitting him in the face from all directions. Poor guy.  No good deed goes unpunished right?  But isn’t that what Satan would want?  Well????  Isn’t it?  HA HA Ha Ha ha ha ha ha!