I was idly scrolling through Facebook tonight. It has become a time-consuming bad habit during the Q. I could be using this time to read, or throw out receipts after checking them against my bank statements, or cleaning baseboards. But no. I’m watching TikTok videos that y’all share (because I refuse to download the app), or laughing at inappropriate memes, or rolling my eyes at y’all trying to convince one another that A) our only “safe” option is staying shut down until flu season or B) that China is trying to kill us by selling us hospital-grade masks that actually recirculate deadly carbon dioxide. I don’t even know anymore. But I do know that I’m not missing people breathing on me in line….but I miss hugs and impromptu drinks with friends at the local watering hole more.

So anyway. Back to this post.

My hair is, to put it bluntly, crazy. It’s virtually untame-able without the aid of an industrial can of hairspray and a flat iron jacked up to the highest setting. I don’t even try. I’ve just been embracing my curls as they fall after I shake them upside down and scrunch a handful of mousse liberally into them. Seriously. That’s my styling regimen. Some days I get lucky and it looks like I tried. Most days I look like I stuck my finger in a light socket and then went outside to play in a Category III hurricane.

My poor beautician, Christy, just does the best she can during the two hours every eight weeks I’m parked in her chair. She knows her name is on it so she tries her best to make it not look like a family of rats has taken up residence in my red locks. She, without fail, asks, “Same thing?” as she heads for her mixer bowls and color. And before she picks up her scissors, “Just shaping up?” It’s good she checks, but as far as the cut goes, I’ve told her for twenty years, “Whatever it needs. It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

I never thought this may be hurting her feelings. While it is just hair, I say this to her because I TRUST her. She wouldn’t purposely do something to my hair that would make me look awful. And my hair is pretty long and thick, so if she did mess up, I’d just wad it into a bun or plunk a ball cap on top of it till something could be done. Now, rest assured, if it all fell out or turned blue, I’d be camped out at her salon till we found a solution, be it wig or alternate identity. So I shouldn’t be so blithe in saying, “It’s just hair”.

But tonight on Facebook, one of my hairdresser friends shared a little something that gave me pause. I have elaborated on it significantly below. Original post by a lady named Liz Faughn.

• It’s just hair – I got to be a part of your wedding! ….Absolutely! There were only two things I didn’t worry about on my wedding day: my hair and my carriage. I didn’t worry about them because I trusted the people in charge of those two things implicitly. They would go off without a hitch, no matter what outside forces tried to interfere. My hair, in 100° heat with 375% humidity, is no match for Christy. It simply wilts into submission, unlike with me. I’m a pushover. Christy takes hold and flips and pins and takes no prisoners. We did a trial run of the updo a month prior for my bachelorette party, just so we’d know for sure how it would look with my tiara and that I was happy with it. I don’t remember having to tweak the design. I went to the salon early on my wedding day to get it squared away and out of my face. Then Christy got to my wedding early enough to make sure it didn’t need any adjustments before the ceremony and to place my tiara. THEN, the next day, she was at my house early to touch it up AGAIN for bridal photos. I’m telling you, the woman is a SAINT. And I’m not even to the second part yet. Nor have I told you about all the things she is forever doing for others…that doesn’t even have to do with hair.
• It’s just hair – I was there for your child’s first haircut. Well, this one doesn’t apply. But I’m sure y’all can supply your own story here. You probably still have the curl.
• It’s just hair – I was there for your first date. Hmmm. Not even sure I remember my first date. I doubt I had my hair done for it.
• It’s just hair – I was there for your school dance. Well, okay. Christy wasn’t doing my hair then. She’s just a year younger than me!
• It’s just hair – I was there for their funeral. I’m glad it didn’t say “your funeral”. But she will be, if she outlives me. We’ve already talked about it. She does it all the time, doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She always says matter-of-factly, “It’s the last thing you can do for somebody.” I already have her on retainer for a funeral that I’m certain will be forthcoming shortly that I will need to be looking my absolute most snottiest.
• It’s just hair- I was there for your graduation. Well, no. But if I went back for my doctorate, she would be.
• It’s just hair- I was there when you didn’t like the way you looked. Now, that’s a fact, Jack. I sure don’t like it when my wisdom hairs get to showin’. And I don’t like it when my eyebrows get wonky. Christy is there for me. And my errant wild chin hair. What is UP with that thing? I guess I should be thankful it doesn’t have friends. Christy keeps me cleaned up. Nobody would mistake my hair for box dye. And most everybody thinks it’s natural. All I do is grow it.
• It’s just hair- when you got offered your dream job and nobody else knew but me and you! Oh boy!! That’s the TRUTH!! Christy was the second person I told because I was quivering with excitement over the job I have now. I think I’d just heard for sure the day before my appointment. No way could I hold it. She was so happy for me <3
• It’s just hair- when you met the person of your dreams and they told you they loved you for the very first time! Yup. And the guys who weren’t my dreams but still fun to dish about!!! And we still do, she knows ’em all!!! She’s made the mistake of playing matchmaker once or twice, too, but I don’t hold it against her. She’s just trying to help.
• It’s just hair- when all you wanted in the whole world is a hug from your hairstylist because you knew they’d give it to you with open arms! Every time. And I always tell her I love her when I’m leaving and she says it back. ‘Cause we do.
• It’s just hair- when you lost your job and didn’t know what you were going to do. Well, I knew what I was going to do. But it was still scary and exciting all at the same time!
• It’s just hair- when you were getting a divorce and just needed to feel better about yourself. Oh my stars and planets. This one hit home. The day after everything crumbled into a disgusting pile of manure, where was I? Christy’s chair. I cried, she colored. I cried, she cut. And we got through it and it was awful and I have never been more acutely miserable in my entire life. But my hair looked fabulous. And that’s what I had on display.
• It’s just hair- when you had a terrible day and looked forward to being able to vent without being judged. Oh my!!! Every appointment for at least fifteen years!! And her husband worked with me, so he could back me up!
• It’s just hair- when you are about to go on vacation and can’t wait to tell me all about it on your next visit. I am completely insufferable for at least a month before location, and two months after. She has to hear all the details.
• It’s just hair- when you bought your very first home. Yes, one that she’s visited a few times!
• It’s just hair ….I think we’ve proved that it’s not.
• It’s not “just hair” Never has been and never will be!

I’m so glad they’re back to work. And I hope everybody appreciates them now more than ever. Funny how this quarantine has really showed us how we’re all truly dependent on one another.