The hair was not looking the best so I decided to leave Mister Husband and the boys to wreak havoc in The Art and Hobby Shop and head off for a nice wash and blowdry for myself.
To say I was not the better of it, is an understatement. Two days later, the hair is still looking mighty fine but the body is in bits. I’m blaming the chair. Some time ago, I was very impressed with a GHD in the ladies in a pub. I thought it was a great and novel idea. Stick two euros into the slot and you can spend two minutes fixing your hair. I was laughed at as this apparently is not all that novel. It’s been around for a while now. Says it all for my social life. So I tried not to look too impressed when the chair I was led to at the sinks, gently tilted backwards and a little foot rest appeared as if out of nowhere to cushion my feet. For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of a hospital gurney with stirrups and was lonesome for the unthreatening familiarity of the chair in my regular hairdressers. I decided to make like the woman on my left who, obviously used to this luxury, was in a semi state of bliss.
At first I thought it was a reaction to the hot water, but when it happened again I knew it wasn’t me that was shivering. It was the chair. In the immortal words of the Beach Boys, I was picking up a good vibration. It started out in my lower back and spread up to my shoulders. That was ok. Nice even. I felt myself beginning to relax as invisible fingers worked their way back down until, and I swear, start to massage my buttocks. It was bordering on creepy now. At least there was no danger of my falling asleep. Not a chance, I was slightly nervous as to what the chair might do next. And sure enough, the wandering hands were off again. This time to tickle my lower spine. I was in danger of peeing myself now. But only because this is a sensitive area in my body, and a touch such as the one I was receiving, has the ability to make me need a bathroom, pronto. It was almost as if the chair was telling me I was going to relax, and what’s more I was going to like it. It would have worked too if I wasn’t in such a state of high alert. I was so perturbed I was distracted from the warm jets of water that were making their way into my ears.
Then the head massage began and I swear, the chair picked it up a notch, almost as if it knew there was competition. And to be honest, the head massage was winning. Hands down. I was almost purring. I love a good old head rub. The chair could have started a rumba and I would have been none the wiser. This was more like it. This is what I was paying the best part of thirty quid for.
Finally I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the rare treat of having my hair washed just for the sheer hell of it.
Now, another lifetime ago I used to enjoy yoga. Really enjoy it. During the last ten minutes of class, the ones that were used to cool down, I would cool down so much I would fall asleep. Deeply asleep. I was once woken up by someone pinching my big toe. The instructor used to be delighted with me. My falling asleep was a compliment to her that she was doing a good job. She wasn’t wrong. One time I even drooled a little bit.And on this day, in the hairdressing salon, the first time I was frivolous and too lazy to wash my own hair, but opted instead to have someone do it for me, I lay there in the vibrating chair and drifted off to sleep. But at least I didn’t drool.