If I Had A Mannequin Head, I'd Name Her Frankie

And I'd give her some serious streaks of red in her hair. Skunk like. And she would like it. Because that's what you do with a mannequin head. I'd tuck her under my arm and carry her around with me, hair flowing in the wind, red streaks causing envy everywhere.

That's what you do at the Paul Mitchell Beauty School. And, that's where my brave (and broke) butt went to get my hair trimmed. $15 and 2 hours later, I was out the door. But, not before learning many important things.

Did you know that alpha hydroxy acids are derived from fruit and milk sugars? Did you know that you must be the bravest soul possible to let a fellow student cut(!) and color(!!) your own hair. And I mean cut into super freak styles? Call me silly, but I believe that is what Frankie is for. Did you know that it is possible to have a hair supervisor giving advice to young, impressionable "future professionals" as their shirts boldly announced with a hair style that rivals Dog, The Bounty Hunter? For reals.

My sweet little student was 3 months into her schooling and had an adversion to hair..."Oh! There's hair everywhere!" She sectioned my hair into 10 (I counted.) sections and painstakingly cut each strand of hair with careful precision. At one point I almost snatched the scissors away and said, "For the love of Pete! Let me cut it Granny Moses!" But, I refrained and sat, magazineless, watching her every move. And every move of Death's Door Dora, the student sitting in the chair next to me watching the whole time. She was quite a ray of sparkles as she stared me down, scowl in tow. I brushed her off until hunger took over and I almost asked her if she wanted a piece of the hungry pregnant girl.

Honestly, she did a great job and even caused me to say a little "I will be better with my hair" mantra that lasted just for the day. I will return there. And, I might even have my own little mannequin head tucked under my arm just to pass the time.

Just Frankie and me.