beauty

"I love my hairdresser. There's just one glaring, infuriating problem."

I love my hairdresser.

She follows my requests (and sticks to my desired length) meticulously. She gets my creamy blonde  colour spot on. She knows what I like, what I want, and she always delivers like a total pro. And for all that? She’s rather affordable. In that respect, she’s a dream.

She’s great at her job. She really, really, really is.

Really.

Well. Except for one thing.

You see, for all her strengths, my hairdresser has one rather large weakness.

SHE. WILL. NOT. STOP. TALKING.

From her ex-boyfriend, to her next holiday, to her sister’s divorce and dwindling savings account, she basically gnaws at my ear for the hour I’m in her chair. I’m 99 per cent sure her constant blabbing means I spend more and more unnecessary time in her salon every time I visit.

It’s exhausting, and no matter how much I try to cut the stream of verbal diarrhea off, she just goes on (and on and on and onnnnnnnn) reaching decibels I didn’t know were possible.

This is a bit of a problem considering I want nothing more than to relax when I get my hair done. I want to sit there and – while becoming more beautiful – read a trashy magazine. Or my book. Or my phone.

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I want to stare into space for exorbitant amounts of time and think about sweet, sweet nothing.

Life is already stressful. Going to the hairdresser should not leave me feeling anything but tranquil and pretty, right?

Listen: The Mamamia Out Loud team discuss another hairy dilemma. (Post continues…)

This constant, loud, irritating chatter should not be confused for conversation. It is not a conversation. My hairdresser rarely, if ever, asks about my life. Instead, she treats our sessions like I am her therapist and she needs to tell me every little thing that has transpired in the last two months without drawing breath.

As much as I love my hairdresser – as much as I want to keep going back to her – the irritation I feel every time I leave is making me want to change. The loud, persistent talking is making my once loyal eye wander to other salons, and lust after other hairdressers, like I’m a cheating spouse or something.

So, tell me… am I being unreasonable?

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