Going to the Beauty Shop has always been a mother/daughter tradition in my family. We get up early in the morning, trudge up to the hairdresser who treats us like queens and makes us feel, even if just for one day- Magnificent. We're pampered beyond belief- someone washes our hair, massages our heads, paint our nails and maybe, if we're lucky, throw in a bit of town gossip!
No, I didn't go get my hair done in the 50's, I'm not that old, but it almost seems like that's what I'm describing. My mother and I recently went to get our glam day and I observed how much things have changed.... there are no nail techs in hair salons anymore. When I asked why I was told they couldn't make money with all of the nail salons open now. Hmmm. Well that just stinks! Instead of talking to me the shampoo girl talked to her co-worker who stood on the other side of my head. There are partitions between the clients so never the others shall meet. I could pass most of this off as signs of the times- until IT happened.
The phone rang...someone on the other end of the line had an emergency. A botched hair-color job sprang to my mind. I have tons of friends who try to do this at home and ulimately regret it. Nope, that wasn't it.
About ten minutes later the troubled client rushed through the door. Panic lit up her face. Her hands rubbed together. The fright in her eyes was almost comical. One of the girls rushed her over to the owner who took one look and told her to go to the sink where the 'expert' could help her. Come to find out this girl had shaved part of her eyebrow off trying to get them perfectly even and symmetrical. Being a woman who doesn't wax I had no concept of this problem but it was intriguing. They worked on her for a few minutes and then broke the news: give it time, it will grow back in. She broke down-cried even. In fact she stayed several more minutes to make sure there was nothing they could do. I wondered how they could see her eyebrows through the caked on make-up that she wore.
Once they convinced her to leave the raw spot alone for a few days she went to the waiting area and had her dad take her home. Ummm, yes, I said her dad. The girl was ELEVEN. Just turned the ripe age of 11 in fact. I was flabbergasted! I'm fairly sure that I still played with Barbie dolls at that age. I know for a fact that I didn't wear makeup, jewelry, and mini-tight clothing with a push-up bra. I know that I had no clue what went on in a Hair Salon at that age.
Now, here's where I admit that I don't have a daughter of my own. I have a son. Is that why I don't understand this? I see three and four year old girls wearing high heels and makeup at the store. Okay, I see young boys with painted nails but that's a whole other issue. Playing 'dress up' is one thing. Being a grown up at eleven? Totally different.
You tell me...where have all the little girls gone? Is it possible they all grew up to write erotic romance?