wendy (m)

Back in 1999, I started going to a new hairstylist named Wendy.  Wendy had a rock star personna and always gave me a great look.  Several of her clients were women in my office, all of whom were incredibly stylish and fun.  Sometimes, we would cut out mid-day and run into each other at Wendy's.  The salon where she worked was a quick 6 minute walk from the office.

A few years later, Wendy decided to leave the shop and set up her own place in a penthouse on Newbury Street.  Okay.....same street as before but several more blocks away.  Summers were tough when the humidity was high in Boston.  I would trudge over there and back.  I hated the "commute."

Once, I had to pass construction workers.  I dreaded it.  One made a nasty comment about my weight. I was traumatized.  That's when I stopped going to her salon.

For the past several years, I've been going to a man named K.  He does a fabulous job but I've been wanting a change.   A friend told me Wendy moved back to the original salon.

I made an appointment to see Wendy.  By my calculations, I was thirty plus pounds heavier when she last cut my hair.  I walked into the salon and took a seat in the waiting area.  I sensed Wendy's presence before I saw her.  Then I heard: "M!!!!  You look fabulous.  You've lost weight, your skin looks great, you look less stressed, you look younger even."

I love the haircut, but honestly, Wendy could have shaved my head and I would have left happy after the nice comments.