Thanks.a.lot

Have you ever had an experience that left you saying thanks in your most sarcastic voice you can muster?  Have you had that experience at the mall??  I don't know what malls are like by you but here in NY they are annoyingly full of kiosks  selling Mediterranean Seasalt scrubs, hand creams, facials, and even hairstylists.  They constantly try to stop you and since I have a overly friendly little boy who just can't help but take their samples, I usually end up hearing a little of their spiel before I politely decline and walk away.  

Now that I have set the scene let me tell you what happened  on a recent trip to the mall with Kirstie (who made it safely to her new home in Texas) and the kids.  I was like usual not wearing any makeup and had simply put my hair in a sloppy bun.  Kirstie looked fashionable as always.  This lady with a thick accent (don't ask what it was) came to us trying to sell some sort of facial.  This is how she tried to sell it to me.  "What do you to your face?"

  Me- "Not much." 

Lady "Let me help you." 

Me, "no thanks." 

Now the lady takes a different approach as I start to walk away.  She grabs Kirstie and says "You are sisters, right?  Well don't you want me to help your sister's face?"

Seriously?!  Help my face!?  Thanks a lot lady!  Geesh Don't I feel beautiful now.  

That was bad but not nearly as bad as my most recent boost of confidence that I got while getting my hair cut at the mall.  I have been trying to get a hair cut and eye brow wax since the week before Thanksgiving but Matt has been unable to watch the kids so my eyebrows get bushier by the day...seriously.  Out of sheer desperation I asked if I could get a hair cut while we were at the mall and he could do some shopping with the kids.  We found a shop with no line, this should have been my first sign to run.  A middle aged European man took me back to chair, asked what I wanted done, and began his work.  He talked to me on and off but honestly I had a really hard time understanding him at times.

He pulls the top part of my hair up and asks "You have a perm, no?"  

I replied, "No, my hair is just wavy in back." 

"It looks like you have a perm, like a bad perm, like perm not work no more back here."

"No I haven't had a perm since I was in high school."

"Oh that a long time from now."

 "Tss it's a shame.  It must be from birthing your babies.  You woman birth  your babies and your hormones ruin your hair.  It's a shame....a shame."

Now I'm like Seriously!?  My hair has always been this way, thanks by saying it looks like I have a bad perm job all the time.  Thanks!

Then he assaults my head with his cream colored comb, over and over.  My head still hurts to touch.  He would violently reposition my head every time his assaults moved my head slightly.  I was beginning to be scared but I was too determined to get a hair cut to leave.  This is about the time his phone started ringing.  He of course answered and chatted in a foreign language for  about 2 minutes.  Hmmm...Back to assaulting and snipping my hair.  The phone rings again.  This time he set down his scissors and comb leaned against the back of my chair, crossed his legs and chatted again in a language I did not understand.  I must have given him a look because when he hung up this time he explained it was his niece from Europe.  Nice.

By now the back of my hair was cut and he moved to my front so I could no longer see my self in the mirror.  He grabbed my head near my temples with both hands and shook my head kind a violently a couple times.  I looked up at him threw strands of hair and he explained that he was "finding my natural part".   I once again showed him where I part my hair and how I would like the front to look.  He nodded and went to snipping the front.   I did not realize it at the time because I could not see but he cut my swoop bangs on the wrong side of my face and parted my hair on the wrong side as well.  When he stepped away, I looked at the mirror and wanted to cry.   I thought about telling him to fix it but was too scared of what would happen if I did.  I did not want him to touch me anymore ever again! 

I told him I did not need it styled and that I just wanted to go.  He insisted in spraying my hair with enough hairspray to withstand hurricane force winds before removing my cape and asking to be paid.   I nearly ran to find Matt, who told me I looked pretty either way.   Needless to say I was sad for the remainder of the evening and will never ever ever get my hair cut at the mall again.  EVER.  I am actually considering never going to the mall.  I don't think my self confidence can handle it. 

Looking back now I laugh at it but seriously it wasn't funny.