Today I went to the hair salon right down the street from my apartment because I couldn't be bothered to trek downtown in the snow to my usual place. And the experience was, well, exactly what I had anticipated. The hairdresser was pushy pushy pushy. "Do you want me to put a gloss in your hair? It really needs it—it's so dry. What about highlights? It will make your hair look so much fuller, and have you thought about..." I cut her off and told her for the third time that I just.need.a.trim. Got it?
If someone gave me a nickel every time I was told I needed highlights to make my hair appear thicker, six months out of the year I'd be lounging on a private island somewhere far away while a hard-bodied man name Raoul fed me grapes. Don't insult the costumers—that's rule number one, asshole.
As she snipped away, she tried to entice me with all the wonderful and oh-so-necessary treatments she could do to my "flat" hair next time. A little premature, eh? By the end, I had a Rachel Green bouffant minus the frosty tips. I'm trying to tame it as we speak.
So, has anyone else dealt with pushy hairdressers? How did you deal?