Pandora1975
Member
We've all read the threads. Someone put their nasty hands in our hair and its disgusting and yada yada. Well folks, its my turn. Add an insult in there and you have my night's events for Thursday.
My dh and I work at the same place. He's on midnights, so when I was dropping him off at work, I ran in. A coworker engaged us in conversation by opening with "When are you gonna do you hair?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Her: "You know- the long things. Back when you looked good!"
Me: (after a very deep breath) "If you mean braids, probably never. At least not soon. To do the kind of braids you mean, I'd have to straighten my hair so that it matched the extension hair, and I'm avoiding heat. I've worked too long the get my hair shoulder length."
Keep in mind that I just washed and dc'd and my hair is in a large wash n go puff. Its still damp and my ringlets and s's are still defining. She doesn't believe its shoulder length, so I carefully pull a spiral down for her to see that my shrinkage is at a ratio of like 1:5.
At this point, she starts coming towards me. She still running off at the mouth about how much she liked my braids and how I need to do that again and how it doesn't matter that the hair not match. I figure she's gonna put he arm around my shoulders like usual. Not in love with that move, but I accept that is her personality.
Before I know it, there is a hand in my hair and it isn't mine. I don't panic, because at this point it is my fault, my guard was down, and I didn't stop her. But she KEEPS GOING. My freshly washed, moisturized and buttered hair is being petted by a hand that has been handling money, possibly garbage, definitely industrial strength cleanser, and lord knows what else. I don't even touch my own hair when I'm working unless I've just washed my hands.
This is where I panic. I blurt out "STOP TOUCHING ME." Noone touches my hair- not even dh. Oh yeah- when he saw what was going down, he ran and hid. He knew what was coming. Smart man. I went grocery shopping when I left there and it took that entire time for me to get over it. I just wanted to say, that I too felt like gagging, and now I get it. Someone really should invent a battery-powered personal space generator or something.
My dh and I work at the same place. He's on midnights, so when I was dropping him off at work, I ran in. A coworker engaged us in conversation by opening with "When are you gonna do you hair?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Her: "You know- the long things. Back when you looked good!"
Me: (after a very deep breath) "If you mean braids, probably never. At least not soon. To do the kind of braids you mean, I'd have to straighten my hair so that it matched the extension hair, and I'm avoiding heat. I've worked too long the get my hair shoulder length."
Keep in mind that I just washed and dc'd and my hair is in a large wash n go puff. Its still damp and my ringlets and s's are still defining. She doesn't believe its shoulder length, so I carefully pull a spiral down for her to see that my shrinkage is at a ratio of like 1:5.
At this point, she starts coming towards me. She still running off at the mouth about how much she liked my braids and how I need to do that again and how it doesn't matter that the hair not match. I figure she's gonna put he arm around my shoulders like usual. Not in love with that move, but I accept that is her personality.
Before I know it, there is a hand in my hair and it isn't mine. I don't panic, because at this point it is my fault, my guard was down, and I didn't stop her. But she KEEPS GOING. My freshly washed, moisturized and buttered hair is being petted by a hand that has been handling money, possibly garbage, definitely industrial strength cleanser, and lord knows what else. I don't even touch my own hair when I'm working unless I've just washed my hands.
This is where I panic. I blurt out "STOP TOUCHING ME." Noone touches my hair- not even dh. Oh yeah- when he saw what was going down, he ran and hid. He knew what was coming. Smart man. I went grocery shopping when I left there and it took that entire time for me to get over it. I just wanted to say, that I too felt like gagging, and now I get it. Someone really should invent a battery-powered personal space generator or something.
At the bolded.
