Void

Tuesday was insane.  After calling into school tardy because of what I believed to be mild aftermath of eating way too much Benchwarmers wing pizza, I was disappointed to transition into stomach flu-like symptoms.  I went to the Lucky Rooster Coffee House for lunch, only to flee back home after a couple of spoonfuls of their delicious delicious soup.  I finally actually made it into school by 1pm, feeling much better.


My first client was a really nice older lady who I'll call Margery.  I immediately liked Margery, I don't know why.  She used a cane and had a hard time walking.  She had a hard time holding still due to a serious case of tremors.  It was clear that she was in pain.  I managed to get her shampooed and rinsed, but by the time I had struggled to get 5 perm rods into her hair (I am excruciatingly slow), she was in so much pain she couldn't stand it any longer.  I tried to get help from another student to get her perm wrapped faster, but it was too late.  She decided to go home and come back another day.  She had known it would be hard on her and had requested a senior student.  Instead she got me.  I felt so bad.  I felt bad because she was in pain.  I felt bad because she didn't get a competent student and that I was so slow.  I felt bad when the instructor assured her she'd get me an assistant and it would go quickly-- Margery was so nice, she hesitated to say no.  Maybe my coping skills had been compromised from being physically ill for the first half of the day, but I lost it.  I felt a few tears slide down my face, which immediately elevated into flat-out bawling.  My whole chest seized up, making it impossible to speak without sobbing like a moron.  In front of her, in front of my classmates, in front of my instructors, and in front of all the other clients.  I then felt extra horrible because my behavior was making her feel bad.

She went home and I took some time out to weep in the student bathroom.  I swear, I have cried more in the last 6 months than I have for the last 10 years combined.  Some classmates came in to see if I was alright.  I'm not sure whether to be touched that they cared or mark it off as cosmetology students are drawn to unstable people.  Either way, thanks to them and thanks to reading the business chapter in the textbook, I was able to take my mind off it long enough to settle down.  I spent the rest of the day drawing butterflies on classmates with markers. One classmate let me color in an existing tattoo.  It was pretty fun, like a human coloring book.  After a while I was called to the front desk.  Margery had left me a tip.  By this point I was so physically and emotionally exhausted, it took everything I had left in me not to lose it again.  A day later, I met a good friend for dinner and told her what had happened.  Just talking about it, I was close to losing it again in the middle of Pizza Hut.  Writing this, I am losing it a little.  But it's okay, because no one is looking.

Week 2 Revisited

I guess it's okay to mention this since the subject has dropped out and left the state and now everybody knows anyway because the following issue was never dealt with...

During Week 2 of cosmetology school, the BASICS class did trash packs on eachother.  A trash pack is clarifying shampoo followed by a series of different conditioners that are heated under the hair drying chair. 

My partner was this sweet little redhead (given the nickname Ladybug) who I suspected of either meth use or bedbugs.  I don't know if it was the scabs and sores that covered her whole body, her erratic behavior, or the ammonia smell, but something was up.  As I was shampooing her hair, I discovered that she had a raging case of headlice.  She had previously announced that she was embarrassed about her psoriasis and dandruff--just a cover for the real problem.  I understand that this can happen to anyone.  I remember childhood days spent sitting in the sun with a shower cap full of mayonnaise.  This infestation was so severe, there is no way she hadn't seen the bugs or noticed the sores.  There is no way.  There were so many, there would have been plenty in her hairbrush or shower water.  There were old eggs on the hair shaft several inches away from the scalp, which indicates to me that she has probably had headlice for literally years.

I discreetly let an instructor know what was going on and finished shampooing her hair.  She was sent home sick a returned a couple of days later, when we were learning eyebrow waxing.  I was already doubtful that 2 days was enough to get rid of it.  I remembered all of the cleaning and laundry involved from when I was younger.  She had been given a short haircut by the instructors.  She volunteered to be waxed and everyone gathered around to watch.  Suddenly, all of the girls backed away and started whispering to each other.  When I asked what was going on (I knew fully well what was going on) I was snubbed.  Agh!  Those jerks could all tell each other, but it was none of my business?  It was the first time I was truly irritated at my classmates.  And of course, she hadn't actually addressed the headlice issue.  I had asked the instructors if she knew how to get rid of them and they said she said she knew.  The girl who asked why so much stuff was made in China said she knew how to get rid of headlice.  My doubts were confirmed. 

A few weeks later she dropped out of school due to marriage issues.  She still showed up for pamper day to get her hair done.  And she still had lice.  At this point, I couldn't even feel sorry for her anymore.  She blamed it on her sister-in-law sleeping on her couch or something lame like that.  I hope that someday she is able to own up to and address her health issues before becoming a cosmetologist, otherwise her clients will run screaming.  It wasn't her health issues so much as her denial of them that got to me.  I'd like to emphasize again that she was very sweet and truly wanted to get along with everyone.

A couple of weeks after that, a classmate said they wanted to trade an eyebrow wax with someone for their level sheet.  I offered and she withdrew her offer.  I asked why and another girl hesitated for a moment and then said it was because I had been partners with Ladybug.  Everyone in the room stopped what they were working on.  I actually had to think for a second and then realized everyone thought I had headlice.  Oh holy hell was I pissed.  I insisted that they were free to check me for headlice and then demanded it.  They did and of course found nothing.  I've since given up on asking my peers for anything.  I'll turn to more advanced students from now on.

BASICS Test Out!

BASICS Test Out is our final practical exam before our mad skillz are unleashed on innocent human beings.  One day is mannequin work and one is on a live model (usually a friend or family member).  My long-time friend Katie was nice enough to be my first model.

Katie wanted a perm, but first her hair needed to be cut.  She had a ridiculous amount of fine silky almost black hair that fell below her shoulders.  I cut her hair to about 5 inches in the back and angled it forward in the front into a diagonal forward, keeping as much length as possible.  The whole thing was cut at 0 degree elevation.  Looking back, I wish I had gone with my instinct to cut it at closer to 90 degree elevation.  The 0 degree elevation gives a triangular shape to her hair when we really wanted a rounder shape.  Anyway, I wrapped her perm in the gemini style and used a perming solution with ammonium thioglycolate.  Naturally, the whole thing smelled like a catbox until we were done.  The photo was taken right after the perm was dry, no products or styling.  I'll post another photo once the cut is corrected and her hair is styled.

Thanks, Katie, you are awesome!!

Pamper Day!

Today was finally Pamper Day!  I had my hair dyed a deep dark violet color.  I will continue to use the term 'dyed' because hair is are fibers.  Fibers are dyed.  'Colored' is for crayons and elderly people who are too young to say the N-word but too old to say black.  It sounds inappropriate and stupid.  Anyway.  My hair.  It's so dark that it looks like black that shines this eggplant color.  The student who did my hair left a bleached spot so I could touch up my rainbow. Yah!

One Sane Person

Finally, I've found her-- the one person in class whose views and behaviors fall well within the realm of normal.  To all of us who have witnessed bizarre behavior, we find even silent acknowledgment to be comforting.  This includes brief eye contact with another human being.  One swift glance can exclaim 'holy shit what the hell is wrong with that person, did you see that?  I totally saw it, too' without hurting said crazy person's feelings or putting yourself in danger by verbally acknowledging the behavior.

Hair Extensions

Lately... I have been mildly entertaining the possibility of getting extensions.  Pamper day is getting closer and I really need to decide.  One the one hand, they look neat.  There are a lot of options when it comes to length and color.  On the other hand, they are kind of gross.  There's something about the thought of weave lumps or (even worse) clumps of glue in my hair that makes me sick.  I can't stand the feeling of hairspray or gel, which can leave the hair crunchy, sticky, and coarse.  I have learned to love both of my cowlicks, which cannot be tamed by blow drying, straightening, or mousse.  Anyway, the foreign and possibly itchy objects in my hair pose more of a concern than the origin of the extensions. 

As far as beauty products go, extensions are not that weird or sad.  The industry is full of chemicals, disgusting animal byproducts, animal testing, and painful procedures.  I won't bother using 'correct' terminology.  I think these words are used in place of more unpleasant terms for marketing purposes.  Perfume may have crap from whale guts in it.  Lipstick may contain fish scales.  I knew a female doctor who was developing an entire line of skincare products containing foreskin.  From dicks.  The whole thing had something to do with stem cells, I believe.  And no, I didn't ask how this stuff was harvested.  Maybe poor Russian men are selling their foreskins to buy groceries.  My point-- we are potentially slathering animal-tested wang lotion all over our faces every day.  That's pretty gross.  Gluing second-hand hair to our own hair is very low on the scale of weird when it comes to beauty products (not even going to get into cosmetic surgery here). 

As far as what women all over the world must do just to survive, selling hair is not that weird or sad.  I can think of many worse things, including selling children or sex.  Both sides are pretty sad-- selling hair to buy food or blowing thousands of dollars on painful fake hair because we are unhappy about the way we look.  I have never understood the intense emotional attachment that some people get to long hair.  When I was 15, I cut my butt-length hair down to chin-length hair.  It was a textured cut with little piece-y bangs and flipped ends.  It never occurred to me that I might be less pretty, less feminine, or that a part of myself was missing.  That is, until several of my friends (including males) insisted that I looked better with my long hair.  That simply wasn't true.  My long hair was flat, dry, and (thanks to my mom cutting my bangs for a decade) was nearly a mullet.  It did not flatter my face shape or body shape.  I realized then that my long hair wasn't actually beautiful, it was just symbolically beautiful.  Childbirth is symbolically beautiful.  If you're actually analyzing what you see-- it's gross as hell.  Some people either can't tell the difference or are unable to omit emotions from their thought process.

Pamper Day is Coming

Our pamper day is coming up in a week and a half.  On this day, senior students treat basics students to free salon services.  We can receive nearly any combination of cut, color, perm, mani/pedi, waxing, styling, makeup, facial, etc. 

My hair is very dark brown/black cut into a vertical forward that hits my hairline in the back and 2 inches below my chin in the front (the photo is not me, just an example of the cut).  There is a hidden chunk of hair near my right ear that has been lightened and colored with Pravana- Violet and Pravana- Green.  I did it myself.  It looks good, but it's about time to change out the colors. 

I've always loved white-blonde, but there is no way I could achieve this on my dark hair without total destruction.  It would be bad enough if I was at my natural dark brown, but I have colored over it with very dark brown.  There is just no way that's a good idea.  There are a couple of senior students who have mid-length white-blonde hair that just makes my heart squirm with envy.  They look like Lady Amalthea from The Last Unicorn (terrible movie, by the way).  Ah well, it probably wouldn't be worth it to play root catch-up all the time to maintain the blonde.  Let it go, let it go.  In any case, I do need to start thinking about what I want to do.