Beauty salon of doom

The hardest thing about moving: leaving my hairdresser, John. He did my color right. My female readers will understand.

So I went for convenience. I called a local shop and asked for an appointment. They don't do appointments, they said. Just drop in. So I did, not once but twice.

My first session was with Rima. Rima put some stuff on my head to help the color develop faster that made me want to tear my scalp off. She washed it out, but my scalp was red for a week.

Six weeks later, Thanksgiving was coming, I was desperate for haircolor, and my eyebrows needed waxing. This time I dealt with Gina. The hair came out okay, but after she was done waxing, she put some stuff on my face to "soothe" my skin. I immediately began to break out in red bumps.

My skin ccame off in flakes for the better part of the week.

But even worse, I had one and a half eyebrows. She had tweezed the outer half of my left eyebrow off. I looked demented, and had to pencil in the lost half brow.

I'm not going back. I'd rather go to John in New Jersey--after all, it's only a three-hour drive.