Accosting at Costco

img_7842Setting:  Exiting my local Costco, heading toward the parking lot.

Back story:  I recently took my son to get his hair cut at the local salon where I get my hair done.  This was a bit of a treat, not the normal Super Cuts or Sports Clips type shop where I usually take him.  Thanks to social media, and his habit of helping  himself to my phone, my son had scrolled through my Facebook feed and seen some “cool” male haircuts.  He asked if he could get a similar type style, and because I love him and like to make him happy, when possible, I agreed. Ever since, he’s been walking around as though he’s some sort of ‘hair god’ pausing in front of any and every mirror he happens to pass.

Narrative:  Yesterday, I was making my way to my car, pushing a warehouse sized grocery cart, loaded down with last-minute Thanksgiving fixings.  Twenty feet in front of me, I noticed a woman wrangling  a similarly loaded down cart, and several small children.  The woman  had her long tresses piled high in a messy bun, with the bottom  two-thirds of her hair clipped quite short, and lines cut in geometrical, diamond-shaped patterns from the middle of her head to her nape.  Her cut, or the lines at least, were somewhat similar to the ones my son recently received from ‘our’ hair person at ‘our’ salon.  Feeling an odd follicular kinship, I rather uncharacteristically hollered to the woman with the fun hair and asked, “Hey, did Robert cut your hair?”  She turned, wearing a bit of a startled expression, looked around questioningly and asked, “Me?” I nodded.  She said, no, that her sister in-law had given her the cut.  I smiled, felt a bit chagrined for my intrusion on her day, and proceeded on my way.  Fortunately, my children weren’t with me, so I didn’t have to endure a wide-eyed, “Mom, I can’t believe you just did that!  Why are you talking to strangers?” speech from my oldest daughter, or any embarrassed snickers from my ten-year old twins.  My own internal monologue of recrimination was bad enough.

Take Away: Just because I live in a smallish town/city, and see someone who is sporting a unique, edgy haircut, doesn’t mean that my favorite hairdresser is the designer/artist behind it, nor does it mean that I should call out to complete strangers about their hair in the middle of holiday Costco traffic.  Finally, I’m just hoping that the woman with the funky haircut doesn’t talk about being accosted by some stranger at Costco, while she’s enjoying her Thanksgiving turkey. Her sister-in-law, obviously a stylist in her own right, might know the local hair people and it could get around that there’s a crazy, off-putting, hair aware, woman on the loose.

**Just one of many examples of the life and embarrassing moments, while shopping, of NLK.


Cheers, and Happy Thanksgiving!


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