Thursday, April 03, 2008

Revisiting the Frump

You may recognize some of this from a previous post. I stole the first two paragraphs for a column on my frumpiness. But it talks about my new haircut so I decided it was fair blogger game.

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve let myself go. I’ve let myself go far into the frump.

At the peak of this slippery slope I was well-intentioned. I had three children in three years; I was surrounded by little people who loved me with or without good makeup and hair; and the only adults I “interacted” with were guests on Oprah and Dr. Phil. But my oldest is now six and I must admit that I’ve slid off the slope to land, belly-up, in the frumpy gully. It’s a sad day, folks. Can’t look away though, can you? It’s like a train wreck. With cellulite.

So as a newly divorced woman who’s had people threaten to set me up on dates (more on THAT later), I’ve had to take a good, hard look at myself and admit that this girl’s come a long way from her highlighted hair and skinny jeans.

Last week, while home visiting my family for spring break I decided to do something about it and get my hair done (baby steps, people). My mom scheduled an appointment for me at her salon and then warned me, as I stepped out the door, that my stylist was a man.

Now, I’m a sophisticated woman—albeit a frumpy one, and although I’ve never had a man cut and color my hair, I’m progressive, open-minded, and very cosmo when I need to be. So as I drove to the salon I mentally prepared myself to have my hair done by someone like Robin Williams’ brother in “Mrs. Doubtfire.”

My stylist was very much NOT like Robin Williams’ brother in “Mrs. Doubtfire.” My stylist was more like Keanu Reeves in “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” Young, good looking, and the very antithesis of frumpy. Dude.

Visions of having an upbeat conversation punctuated with “that’s right, girlfriend,” suddenly disappeared. They were replaced with 115 excruciating minutes of my stylist anticipating his upcoming getaway to the Oregon Coast where there would apparently be much drinking and crabbing. Actually about 7 minutes were filled with talking, 108 were filled with awkward silence. The little Paris Hilton dog sitting on the neighboring patron’s lap was having more fun than I was.

But it wasn’t completely Dude’s fault. While I can be a fairly chatty person under normal circumstances, I clam up every time I sit in a stylist’s chair. Or maybe it’s the mirror. Having to watch myself talk is very disconcerting and I never have one good thing to say. “Crabbing, huh?” I got nothin’.

But finally, miraculously, my hair appointment ended and to celebrate I gave my stylist a generous tip that left us both speechless. Again.

And while I really do like my hair, I’m still questioning whether or not it was worth it . Which leaves me to wonder if my frumpiness is the result of personal neglect or some odd salon phobia. I am a Salonaphobe. That and I have this strange aversion to healthy food.

See? I’m not frumpy.

I’m just a very sick woman in need of therapy.


Tola said...

so let's see a pic! and for the record, ive never thought you were frumpy, and ive seen you look pretty bad. we *were* roommates, remember?

LikeAstaR said...

Yes! I want to see the "new you" too!! Glad to see another post.

Anonymous said...

yes, pictures, pictures! I third the motion . please let us see. I'll bet it's gorgeous. And you are not frumpy. And all women who have just gone through a divorce with children are in need of therapy, whether they admit it or not. Lots of love to you!


Karen (Pediascribe) said...

Before an after pics??

All 4 of us go together to the same place we've gone for years. It's more like a social night out than a salon visit. We love our stylist and talk the entire time we're there.

I guess I'm lucky.

Chris said...

Do show the photo. A new Do is always fun. My favorite hairdresser ever is a man. He has cut my hair since high school, is definatly not the Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire. :-)
I love Oprah's word for frump "shlumpadinka." I think I go there a lot. At least twice a year I am stuck there.

Tola said...

oh yeah come to Philly and we'll have fun!

Anonymous said...

I don't like the kind of hairdresser you talked about. I hate being uncomfortable in the chair, no matter how great the cut looks. I am way over due for my cut and color (lets hear it for us frumps) but I do like the girl who cuts my hair. She talks, but not too much. I just feel comfortable, and I like the cut. For me it is just a matter of time, as always. There is always something going on with the girls, as usual my hair is last on the list. Today, Hannah said she would pitch in her allowance if I went, I guess the grey, witch look is troubling her. I told her, I kinda liked it, I was going to be a free spirit. Ok, not really, I just love to freak out my children.

I bet you look great!

Sara said...

It is such a relief to know that my aversion to healthy food is an actual medical condition and I'm not alone :) I'm not a huge fan of the salon either but what REALLY scares me is the spa...

shawn said...

Shauna ... if the last two years have taught me nothing else, they have taught me that just in that moment when we feel DONE ... suddenly life (the cosmos, God - whatever term we want to use) drops something on us that is like blinding light in the darkness ...

YOU took a big and great first step ... keep going ... as one who knows ... one day you'll look back and marvel how far you've some ... take in one moment, one step, one small action at a time ... and do it with a smile and a NON-Frumpy attitude !!!

Attitude makes all the difference ... you can do it !!!!

Melodrama Mama said...

I hate those uncomfortable 'salon silences'! Especially because it gives me too much time to evaluate my flaws in the giant mirror.

Reguardless: new hair = new attitude, so hopefully the experience was well worth it.

Happy Haircut!

Spammon said...

If I owned a salon, I would have each chair encased in a large sound proof incubator with only glove holes in the side. This way the stylist doesn't have to feel obligated to talk, and I don't feel obligated to listen.

Carrie Wilson Link said...

You shouldn't be allowed to "practice" hairdressing if you don't know how to keep a conversation going in a warm, comfortable way. An A for you for addressing the frumps, an F for him for not making you feel/relax/enjoy being treated well.

BTW, love "train wreck with cellulite."

Kapuananiokalaniakea said...

Yes! It's the mirror. HATE the mirror.
I grew out my hair so that I could minimize trips to the hairdresser. I am so far into avoidance mode that once, I actually let my teenaged daughter and one of her girlfriends trim my hair.

Tari said...

I want to see it! Oh and I have the same problem talking while I'm sitting in that stupid chair looking at myself. Why is that?

Janice said...

yes where are the pics

shauna said...

Okay, guys. Ready for the pic? There it is. You don't see it? Right there. To the right of this comment. Fabulous, right? :)