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.