One of the advantages of being married to a school teacher is the long summer vacations. The last day of school was Wednesday and I am now looking forward to an entire six weeks of family time. The most exciting part . . . knowing that the German can get up in the middle of the night and give the Dude his pacifier or feed the Dude at 6:00am. I will not make him do it every day, but I am definitely going to take some time off. With all the sleep and relaxation, I may become an entirely new person; think of it as a kinder, gentler, less bitchy Claire.
In preparation for the whole new me that I want to be, I took a "mental health day" on Tuesday and went to the hair salon. The hair salon can be a dangerous place for an expat. First, it is difficult to know where to go. Even though I have lived in this town for well over a year, I had no clue where to go. Luckily I have the pulse of Wildeshausen at my finger tips; the women from my mommy-and-me class. Although some of them expressed their sadness at not going that often themselves, they did have a recommendation for me. It was a bit more expensive, but worth the money. So, off I went.
The second problem that an expat faces at the salon: the language barrier. Even though I speak very good German and have spent 6 years in this country, I turn into a complete idiot as soon as I see the woman with the scissors. I blame this on the fact that "salon vocabulary" is not taught in schools. Forget buying bread, I really need to know how to explain hair color, roots, layering and please dear God don't cut my bangs to short. (The word for bangs by the way: pony. Weird, huh?)
My lovely new hairstylist took one look at my dry, split-end, faded hair and knew exactly what the problem was. In fact I did not have to do much talking at all. And the salon might have been expensive, but I went for everything that was offered to me. Cappuccino. Fabulous. Blond Highlights. Why the hell not. Treatment for the dry, split ends. Slap it on. Hand massage from a strange person. Let's not carried away, shall we.
When she was done (in one hour 45 minutes, a record for me!), I was very pleased with the results. Then came the real hard part, the bill. It has been awhile since I went to a salon in the U.S. but in Germany you have to pay for every little thing that they do. On my bill was hair treatment, color, highlights, cut, blow dry, mousse and hair spray. It adds up! The cappuccino, however, was on the house.
After I got home, I had to pass the man test. The German nodded his approval and did not even ask how much it was, thank God, and even better the Dude still knows who I am.
UPDATE: Okay, okay. I did not have a picture in the original post because I was on my way out the door when I was writing. Below is a pic. My hair is definitely lighter and shorter, but looks better in person.