Stalker

I’ve had a lot of bad haircuts in my life.  They began when my mother used to cut my hair – she would place a bowl over my head and chop around it so that I had bangs all the way past the back of my ears.  My mullet-esque haircut changed only slightly by the time I was 10 when my mom pulled down my wet bangs and cut them where they should have been when dry.  Of course, they sprung up and looked like porcupine quills shooting out of my hairline.

My worst haircut was in eighth grade – unfortunately right when I became interested in boys.  People said I looked like a Beatle (John?  Ringo?) or a lion (to be fair, some still say this).  My friends who knew me back then STILL remind me of how bad I looked.

I finally learned how to use a straightening iron and grew my hair long.  Since then, I haven’t had a bad haircut.  I also haven’t had a great one – they’ve all been pretty much the same.  All the $5 haircuts and the $50 haircuts were certainly workable as long as the haircutter did not cut off too much hair!

Once I moved to Atlanta, I had a few haircuts before walking into Oh La La Salon.  I was a walk-in and a super cute, giggly, slightly goth looking girl about my age named Meg was available for my haircut.  “Just don’t cut it too short!”  I asked, as always.  “Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “I understand, and I won’t do anything you won’t like!”  We spent the haircut gossiping and had a really fun time.  When she turned me around after the blow dry, my mouth dropped!  She did such a great job that I actually went back to HER again.  Going back to the same stylist was something I hadn’t done since I was forced to use the dictator of haircutters – my mom.  I knew I would never have to change hair stylists again.

After having Meg cut my hair twice, I went back for my third haircut with her.  I walked into Oh La La, but she wasn’t there, so I decided to schedule an appointment for a later date.  “Meg doesn’t work here anymore,” the receptionist told me.  What?!  She could tell how upset I was after pleading with her to tell me where I could find her.  Finally, after the salon owner vanished in the back, she whispered to me, “try Grow down the street – she’s cutting hair there now.”  I was so excited as I called Grow and made my appointment.

When I showed up, Meg was shocked that I found her and followed her to a different salon (that was no longer within walking distance of my house).  She told me how much happier she was at the new salon and I agreed that it was nicer.  I was so happy to have found her and knew that I would never have to change hair stylists again.

For my next haircut, I called Grow to schedule an appointment.  “Meg doesn’t work here anymore,” the receptionist at grow told me.  Is it really happening AGAIN?!  “What salon did she move to?” I begged, but the woman told me she had stopped cutting hair.  I was devastated.  The woman, however, did give me her cell phone number in case I wanted to call her.  I was nervous, but I called her.  “Hi, um, this is, um, Shaina, the girl who followed you to the other hair salon.”  Fortunately, she remembered me, didn’t think I was crazy and told me she wasn’t working at a salon but would come to my house to cut my hair!  I was so happy!  She was going to come to my house and I knew that I would never have to change hair stylist again.

Once again, she gave me a fantastic haircut and did not even make fun of me for eating spam fried rice that I had made, although she did politely decline when I offered some to her.  This time, she did the best job she had ever done.  I was so happy with my haircut, although I was sad because I was leaving Atlanta and moving to New York.  To keep in touch, we became facebook friends.  Nothing is more permanent than facebook, so I knew that I would always be able to find her and never have to change my hair stylist again.

(right after my hair cut)

After three mediocre haircuts in New York (yes, it’s true), I knew that as soon as I went back to visit Atlanta, I would get Meg to cut my hair.  I had been seeing periodic facebook updates from her, so when I decided to organize my November trip to Atlanta, I planned to facebook her.  Yesterday, I opened up facebook to send her a message and when I was typing her name, her account did not show up.  I figured I must have been spelling it wrong or she changed her name like some people do.  You know what I mean – if I did it my name would be “Shhh Aina”

Anyway, when her name didn’t come up, I looked up an old message we had sent to each other.  When I found it, my heart dropped.  Her name was blanked out – she had deleted her facebook account.  I began to panic.  Not again!  How am I going to find her this time?!  I began a googling frenzy.

I found an old linked in profile that I thought was hers, but there was no messaging function for it.  I tried to request her as a contact, but how often does anyone check a linked in profile?  Finally, I found her name attached to a party at a gun range!  I remembered she told me she was starting a new job at a gun range… and there was a phone number.  I was so excited!  I called the number immediately, but was devastated when I heard a woman’s voice, “we’re sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected…”

I was nearly in tears – trying to accept that I would never find her again and my hair would be forever just OK.  I decided to make one last ditch effort and find the main number for the gun range – perhaps someone would know where she went.  I dialed it as I tried to think of how I was going to convince someone that I wasn’t a crazy stalker and they should give me Meg’s personal contact information.  Someone answered, “Sandy Springs, this is Meg speaking.”  I almost couldn’t speak.  I found her!  “Hi Meg.  How are you?”  “Good, how may I help you?”

I felt so stupid.  How was I going to explain that I stalked her for yet a THIRD time and I was calling her at her new job?  “Um, this is Shaina”  “Shaina STAHL?!” She asked.  “Yes, and I’m sorry that I called you at work but you deactivated facebook and I….”  I trailed off as I heard her laughing hysterically on the other end.  “I’m flattered you looked for me again!”  I was relieved.  I know that I will never have to change hair stylists again.