I have a confession to make. I never wanted to be a hairstylist. I grew up in a family of hairstylists-my grandmother had a very successful salon that she started after she raised five daughters. She had never done hair or owned a business. She went to cosmetology school, went to the bank for a loan, converted her garage and set up shop. Kept herself in diamonds and minks from then on.
But I wanted to do something meaningful. I wanted to become a lawyer and fight for citizens' rights against The Man. Or create great art-show the world a vision it hadn't seen before. Or be a concert pianist, and fill the world with the music of Bach. (O.k., actually the first things I remember wanting to be when I grew up were a Formula One driver or a spy. Go figure.) Hairstylist? No way in hell.
I wanted to use my little grey cells, not destroy them sniffing hairspray all my life. I wanted to do something meaningful in the world, not make it "pretty". My idea of dressing up was sewing a new patch on my jeans to cover up the newest hole. I wore no makeup, cut my own hair, and never saw the inside of a salon after my grandmother died. I got married, had two daughters, got divorced, and started looking for my road to change the world.
And then I went to cosmetology school. I swear to god I woke up one morning and thought, "You know, I think I want to do hair." The DNA had kicked in. Marie (my grandmother) was back. I still can't explain what happened, but somehow I started channeling my grandmother. I went to school, got a job, and started doin' up some do's. But I still had no feeling for what I was doing. It was just a paycheck. I could have been flipping burgers for all the meaning it had. So I put in my time, built up my business, built relationships with my clients ( I married one!), and was the last one to see it coming.
Meaning. Changing the world. One head at a time. I was the last one to figure it out. I wasn't in the business of making people "pretty". I was in the business of changing how they felt about themselves. Or how they felt about the world that day. Or how they connected to the next person they ran into. I saw clients come in ready to cry ( or actually crying) about their lives and walk out relaxed and smiling, just because they got to sit down and have someone care for them for an hour. They left feeling like life was a little less overwhelming. Sure, they left looking better. But it wasn't just the "pretty" on the outside. They had someone listen to them for an hour. They had someone touch them, massage their scalp, rub their shoulders. They got to be in a "safe" place where they could unload all the stuff that was building up in their lives. And when they walked out, they felt a little lighter, a little more cared for.
Who knew? I thought all my grandmother was doing all those years was just slinging shampoo and talking trash with all her weekly clients! I didn't see her holding them while they cried, or having a drink with them to celebrate their son's wedding, or talking them off the ledge when it was all just too much. She WAS changing the world. It was just one head at a time.
I always want to be a hairstylist. Or a Formula One driver. One of those.
But I wanted to do something meaningful. I wanted to become a lawyer and fight for citizens' rights against The Man. Or create great art-show the world a vision it hadn't seen before. Or be a concert pianist, and fill the world with the music of Bach. (O.k., actually the first things I remember wanting to be when I grew up were a Formula One driver or a spy. Go figure.) Hairstylist? No way in hell.
I wanted to use my little grey cells, not destroy them sniffing hairspray all my life. I wanted to do something meaningful in the world, not make it "pretty". My idea of dressing up was sewing a new patch on my jeans to cover up the newest hole. I wore no makeup, cut my own hair, and never saw the inside of a salon after my grandmother died. I got married, had two daughters, got divorced, and started looking for my road to change the world.
And then I went to cosmetology school. I swear to god I woke up one morning and thought, "You know, I think I want to do hair." The DNA had kicked in. Marie (my grandmother) was back. I still can't explain what happened, but somehow I started channeling my grandmother. I went to school, got a job, and started doin' up some do's. But I still had no feeling for what I was doing. It was just a paycheck. I could have been flipping burgers for all the meaning it had. So I put in my time, built up my business, built relationships with my clients ( I married one!), and was the last one to see it coming.
Meaning. Changing the world. One head at a time. I was the last one to figure it out. I wasn't in the business of making people "pretty". I was in the business of changing how they felt about themselves. Or how they felt about the world that day. Or how they connected to the next person they ran into. I saw clients come in ready to cry ( or actually crying) about their lives and walk out relaxed and smiling, just because they got to sit down and have someone care for them for an hour. They left feeling like life was a little less overwhelming. Sure, they left looking better. But it wasn't just the "pretty" on the outside. They had someone listen to them for an hour. They had someone touch them, massage their scalp, rub their shoulders. They got to be in a "safe" place where they could unload all the stuff that was building up in their lives. And when they walked out, they felt a little lighter, a little more cared for.
Who knew? I thought all my grandmother was doing all those years was just slinging shampoo and talking trash with all her weekly clients! I didn't see her holding them while they cried, or having a drink with them to celebrate their son's wedding, or talking them off the ledge when it was all just too much. She WAS changing the world. It was just one head at a time.
I always want to be a hairstylist. Or a Formula One driver. One of those.