Bambi the Hairdresser

I have to take a deep breath before I write this one, even after all of this time.

My husband has had a certain hairdresser longer than he's had any wife. Her name (which I will not mention) is akin to something similar to Bambi Bubbles; sounding suspiciously like a stripper alias. He really seemed to like the way she cut his hair and couldn't wait for me to meet her after we were married. So I agreed to go with him.

When 'Bambi' came around the corner, she shrieked my husband's name and all but ran up to maul him. He had to point out to her that a woman was standing beside him; she was that oblivious to me. I don't know about you; but when a woman who by all rights ought to notice you and chooses not to...that's never a good indication. When I shook her hand, it felt like a dead fish...not a great sign, either. I was not thrilled with her attire...quite revealing...I thought her choice of wardrobe that day was interesting, to say the least. Especially knowing that she was soon going to be leaning over a basin to wash my Husband's hair.

Her tiny station area (which had a large sign in it that said, 'CURL UP WITH YOUR HAIRDRESSER'; very tasteful...) was a remodeled former bathroom, since the salon was located in an old Victorian mansion. It was admittedly small; but when my husband asked if 'Bambi' could possibly locate a stool or chair so that I could sit in the room with them, she off-handedly said there weren't any to be found. (Really? In a three story house there was not one stool, chair or a bucket that could be turned upside down?) So I had to sit on the edge of a sofa that was outside of the room, in the hallway, and peer in to be a part of it all. I had to marvel that after the hundreds of dollars that my husband has spent at her station, she could not do us that one service of finding a chair for his wife.

Bambi started off the conversation with, " So why are you two together today?" (Uh, because we're MARRIED, perhaps...? And because I am checking you out to see if you're 'safe' and you know it, sister....by the way, you're currently getting a D-). And when she asked what we'd be doing for the upcoming Valentine's Day, my husband commented that it would be hard to beat last year's, where we went to get our marriage license. Bambi said, "Oh, yeah, I remember that day, you came in to get your hair cut!" (No, he didn't. He was with me all day.) And then she seemed to remember him getting his hair done on our wedding day, as well, which I am absolutely positive didn't happen. (He went on a hike with his son in the morning while I was primping, and then we spent the rest of that day together...getting married.... No haircut involved).

The owner of the salon came by,a very sweet lady, and was happy to meet me, the New Wife. She made a big deal out of me,(which I loved, who wouldn't!) commenting her disbelief that Husband could have such a 'pretty wife'. She asked "How'd YOU ever get her?" Bambi spoke up and said, "He must've met her at a bar and got her drunk enough to say 'yes'!" Then she laughed at her own wittiness. If he tipped her by this point, Husband and I were going to have a serious discussion.

As we were preparing to leave, my husband mentioned that he was taking me to sushi for lunch. Bambi actually (I kid you not) stuck her lower lip out, pouty-like, and said that all she was going to have for lunch was some yogurt and she wished SHE could go to sushi, too. (Was she trying to invite herself or get an invite? Wow!) There was this long, pregnant pause as she attempted to let that one soak in, and the two of us were speechless...

I wish that I could say this girl was young, to give her some type of an excuse for her 'silly' behavior; but she was in her mid forties!

When we got out to the car, Husband, oblivious, turned to me with a smile and said, "Well.... what did you think of her?"

There was never a more loaded question....

After two more trial hairdressers and over about a year's time, Husband now goes to 'Janet' (which, coincidentally, does NOT sound like a stripper name) down the street. She's in her late fifties, is extremely skilled in styling hair, is VERY married, and cuts hair for our entire family. She always has a place for me to sit, would rather hug me than shake my hand, has no tender memories of our's that she tries desperately to inject herself into.... and has NEVER tried to invite herself to any of our meals, (although she's such a lovely person, I would LOVE to have her over for a nice dinner sometime).

A month or two later, a friend of mine who also happens to go to Bambi to get her hair done, mentioned that the two of them were discussing my husband.

"He doesn't come to me anymore," Bambi had whined, "I wonder why...?"