Prior to my Locks of Love donation in March, I paid a visit to my stylist guru at my salon for his wise counsel. As you know, Locks of Love is a nonprofit that provides wigs for children suffering from any medical condition that causes hair loss.
In lobby of salon, my maestro comes to check the entire length of my hair. Most programs require 10 inches of hair from the shortest layer. He casually suggested Pantene as an option because they require an 8 inch minimum donation.
His comment, “And sometimes 2 more inches isn't that significant but if you can get away with eight inches, you don’t need ten.”
From one of the leather sofas in the lobby, an immaculate woman, not even glancing up from the magazine she is reading, says very clearly with a dry, dry sense of humor, “I think that depends on who you ask.”
It is completely silent. For several seconds. And I had a choice. Snicker like a 9th grade boy OR tip my head in curiosity as if I personally didn't understand what she meant. Of course I did what any accomplished grown up woman would do: I snickered like a 9th grade boy. So did the women behind the counter. OH the juvenile hilarity. And other women seated in the lobby laugh as well. My stylist, only tilts his head slightly, and says, “Girls.”
To which I reply, “I didn’t say it.”
He replies, “Of course. Don’t let me step on your angel wings.”
Apparently two inches might not be significant to the people at Pantene, but for the ladies in the salon, 2 inches were the source of much childish entendre.
And this is the rare scenario in which philanthropic ideals and girls acting like 9th grade boys in the back of the bus can co-exist.