Yes There Really Is Such A Thing As A Hair Splinter...And It Sucks!

Fabulous day doing what I love. I can't think of a better way to spend my time; if you have to work, let it be something you absolutely love. I mean, aside from the whole having other people's hair all over your clothes, in your eyes, all over your exposed skin, somehow creating a new lining to your bra thing, it's amazing. The hair splinter thing is the sad and oft not talked about darker reality of being a hair stylist.

If you've ever had an ingrown hair, you get the basis of what I'm saying. Of course this is not an ordinary kind of ingrown hair, and it's no ordinary splinter; it's someone else's hair working it's way into your skin, and even the most fantastic tweezers fall short of the task of removing it. This is something few people outside of the hair industry experience. I myself, have lost count of the times I've endured the sharp, needling pain of a hair splinter in my feet, hands, and (gasp) gums. I am NOT kidding. Think about it; hair stylists talk, while cutting hair...the hair flies about in the air...and those flexible pieces of biological material somehow manage to work their way between teeth and gums becoming more irritatingly lodged than popcorn kernel skin. No amount of brushing, flossing, or toothpick probing can thwart the annoying discomfort of this predicament.

You have got to love your job beyond belief when you spend the day covered in other people's hair; hair that at times is not clean, leaves you unable to get away from the stench of cigarettes from a client four hours ago, covers your phone case, permeates every bag you carry, or article of clothing you dare to wear to work. Only a truly devoted stylist can take the loose strands of hair wound around their fingers during a shampoo, tangled in color brushes making precision application beyond challenging, clogging sink drains, filling brush bristles, and magnetizing to clothing and simply grab hold and discard them all the while maintaining creative professionalism.

Stylists, more often than not, can find hair in their food, remove it and continue eating. We can withstand ten hours or more in hair riddled clothing, styling client after client, but the moment we are finished our day, the itchy, picky irritation of the last twelve plus haircuts immediately drives us to the point of near madness. Still, I love my job. No amount of hair splinters, dandruff, skin conditions, or less than enjoyable client personality could make me hate what I do. I create the type of art that people define their appearance with, and along the way it also boosts the confidence and spirit of those same individuals. Hair splinters, regardless of where they manage to embed themselves, are just physical evidence of this particular creative process.

So, if you have a friend who expresses their creativity as a hair stylist, be understanding when they explain they can't simply meet you after work or go out straight from the salon...tiny bits of hair, while part of their job, are uncomfortable as all fuck. The need to shower, or at the very least change is not vanity; it's absolutely fucking necessary if you want to avoid bitchy demeanors and diva-like meltdowns. Friends don't make friends suffer through a night out in a bra that has managed to accumulate enough hair to knit a scarf. They drive their asses home (or to the closest store) and patiently wait for them to slip on a hair-free bra and clean clothes before heading out on the town. At least my friends do.