Her and Her sunglasses

I had a meeting w/the Hair God on Saturday. I call him this, because not only is he a great stylist…but he is gorgeous. I don’t mean pretty-boy gorgeous, either. He is tall, bald, tattooed, and hot! Which is awesome, because I do have to stare at his face for two hours while he cuts my mop. This, however, is not about Hair God.

Hair God recently changed salons, and he now works in the Highland Village (ie snotty whore) area of Dallas. I am not against the wealthy. Hell, hopefully I’ll join their ranks one sweet day. However, I am very much against the attitude of entitlement. Look, sweetie (finger snapping and head swing included), having a bank account w/a few more zeros at the end does not make you a better person. So, Jess and I (because it was lady’s day filled w/shopping, lunch, and Hair God gazing) journey to Highland Village where my 2003 Honda Accord looks like the rusty junker a child molester might drive. The salon is very nice and divided into these tiny rooms that make the hair styling experience seem intimate and personal. However, this tight space also allows conversation to drift from one stylist’s station to another.

So, Hair God and I are settling into our comfortable witty banter about Denton, relationships, work, and whiskey (if you need a visual, I keep trying to look at him and he keeps having to re-adjust the position of my head) when I first realize that she is sitting next to me. She is dressed in a summer dress, minus a bra (who needs a bra when you’re so thin that your sternum sticks out through your clothes), carrying a big, metallic bag, gossiping to her stylist about how people (in the same room as she is) are dressed…other stylist..blah blah…She was about half way through her haircut when I sat down. So, as she is finishing up, I’m half way through mine. She gets up to leave, dusting off imaginary blonde wisps, secretly scanning the room to notice those noticing her. As she exits stage left, Hair God rolls his eyes.

Five minutes later she reappears. The world has ended. She has lost her sunglasses! Better yet, she has lost her $350 sun glasses. Oh, it just keeps getting better...someone has now stolen her $350 sunglasses. She starts asking all the stylist who are busy at work, if they have seen her sunglasses. The lovely Hair God says "No, I haven't. I'm working, not watching your sun glasses." God, he somehow got hotter in the past 5 seconds. Now, she's over by Jess loudly proclaiming "I left them right here." Jess is doing her best to ignore her, head buried in an old W. Then, she starts lifting up the seat cushions where Jess (all 6 feet of her) is sitting. Jess stands (still buried in W) while this extremely rude person moves our purses off the bench and searches for $350 sunglasses where my friend's ass had been 5 seconds ago. She finally gives up the search but not before bitching to the manager as well as an innocent by stander.

Hair God and I share a laugh over her ridiculous antics (I mean, really, no one stole your sun glasses, you pretentious bitch...you lost them..it's ok...I do it all the time). I finish up my haircut, give the Hair God a hug and a parting sass, pay my tab, and head for the door. The Texas sun is out in full force, so I reach into my bag.

But someone else's sunglasses had taken up resident there. Her's! I guess they fell into my open purse amiss all the seat cushion lifting and such..I quickly turn and head back into the salon before her glass's GPS had the chance to track my movement (by the way, the glasses...not so cute...they look like hollister's w/thicker plastic frames). The owner was still at the counter, so I hand him the glasses while clarifying I DID NOT steal them. He gets very excited and says "She will be very happy that you found them." and I say "Have a great day."

But what I really want to say is this: "Tell her that if she wants to own $350 glasses, keep up w/them. Tell her that hollister makes a $15 pair that looks just the same. But, most importantly, tell her pricey sunglasses, hair cut, car, house, etc. do not mean shit...and, just because she has these things, she is not better than me or Jess or Hair God or anyone. So treat everyone the same regardless of their address...or next time I'll back over your fucking sunglasses with my junker and not give it a second thought..."