I'm not a grinch...I'm really not. Okay...so I don't get into Christmas like most people. I could care less about "Satan Claus"...uh...I mean "Santa Claus" and everyone should know by now that Jesus was NOT born on December 25th. I think the entire world, is "ho-ing" (sorry, can't think of another word right now) out this holiday for selfish reasons. "Jesus Is the Reason for the Season"...what?!? Jesus is the reason you're alive...and not just for a season. It's strange to me how more people seem to identify and isolate Jesus to being that little baby in the manger and not the Sovereign Son of God, Lord and Savior who came to take away the sins of the world. We don't identify Jesus around Christmas as much as we do Santa, so don't give me that "Jesus Is The Reason for the Season" stuff. To most it's a nice, politically correct thing to say. For those of you that like to spell Christmas as "X-mas"...uh...it doesn't fly with me. What does that "X" mean? Does it represent the cross or Christ? Does it represent your non-belief in Jesus Christ?
What do you think would happen if people celebrated the Christmas season and not a single gift would be exchanged? Periodically on the news in my city, there was a segment about how they shelters for battered women were full because of lack of employment. WHAT?? So, you're saying...because men have lost their jobs, out of frustration their beating wives more. And now their beating them even more because of the stress that Christmas brings? What a bunch of malarkey! A REAL man doesn't beat his wife or kids out of frustration!! If you do, then you exhibited that behavior way before you lost your job, dude!
Stop The Christmas Madness!
Sorry...back to the topic. I want a moratorium on gift giving during Christmas. I am not talking about donations (or gift-giving) to charities or people in need. I'm saying, stop the madness of giving someone a gift solely because they gave you one. Case and point. Sad to say but one year, I wanted to take all of my gifts back to their respective stores with the exception of maybe 2 or 3. I'm sorry but you can tell when a person gives real thought to the gift they give and when they don't. You can tell no real thought was given about the gift when:
-You can tell your gift was one of those on the $10 table by the door of the store.
-The gift matches no part of who you are.
-The gift matches no decor in your home.
-The gift is one of those "As Seen On TV" gadgets.
-The gift is something you're allergic to.
-The gift is something you can't even eat.
-The gift is so ugly, you can only think it was re-gifted.
Stop The Christmas Madness!
I'm one of those people that gives gifts...when I want to, not because I think I have to. Is that wrong? I mean, how can that be wrong? I don't only give gifts to people during the Christmas holiday. I give gifts when I think of that person, or when I see a special something that I'd like to bless the person with. That kind of giving "happens" throughout the entire year. Believe me when I say, when you don't give any thought to the gift you give, it shows.
I got married almost 10 years ago. We got some of the most god-awful gifts! We got:
-A snow globe with a castle in it. WTH!!
-An ugly green vase with 4 sprigs of yellow fake flowers.
-A poster of one of those pictures that you have to stare real hard at to figure out the picture...inside the picture.
-A set of glass dishes that looked like they had been salvaged from a yard sale.
I mean people, people, people...if you can't afford a gift, don't feel obligated to gift just ANYTHING! A nice card with a personalized note would have been far more appreciated. One of my very good friends always gifts me with something that was in the $10 or $15 section of some store. What's sad about this, is that I've known this person since I was a teenager. Why she feels obligated to get me just any random gift is beyond me, but how do you tell people, "Please...even if I give you a gift for Christmas, PLEASE don't give me one in return." LOL This year, she gave me a gift I immediately wanted to return or re-gift (yes, I WILL re-gift if I know it fits someone else better than myself). I mean, I really wanted to give it back to her and say, "Please...go get your money back." Oh well...I'm sure it will be at the next yard sale.
Stop The Christmas Madness!
Since there will never be (anything but a self-imposed) a moratorium on gift giving during the Christmas season, I've already started thinking about the gift I want to give to certain people in 2009 and we are only 4 days out from Christmas. Why? Because I get great joy out of giving and great thought to my gifts and I want at least a year to purchase it, so I won't just hand out a generic, obligatory gift at the last minute that someone can't use. This year, I bought and wrapped the gifts for all the adult females in my family by June! Yes, I said June! I purchase exactly what I wanted them to have. I gave great thought in the gift and it made the impact that I wanted it to make. Mind you, the gift for each was under $10. It wasn't the price of the gift that I was gifting, it was the sentiment behind it. Maybe I'm one of those rare people who don't WANT anything back in return. Maybe it's because I'm very practical and I don't like kitsch mucking up my house.
So...I've thought about some cool things people could "gift" at Christmas:
-Family portrait swap
-Barter (e.g., if I'm a chef, I could make 6 gourmet meals and if you're a carpet cleaner, you could clean my carpet 6 times in a year)
-Certificates (e.g. for babysitting, cleaning, drycleaning, manicure, pedicure, hair salon, fav grocery store)
We're in a declining economy and no one should be spending money frivolously just because it's Christmas.
Okay, so maybe I'm assuming everyone is as practical as I am! LOL Who cares? I'm allowed...it's MY blog. :)
Stop The Christmas Madness!
-
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I Love My Parents!
My family members are some of the funniest people I know. My siblings are very bright. Not the scarily, odd acting kind of intellectual but very intelligent people. Collectively, we've been or are executives, a professor, a teacher, IT staff, a nurse, project managers and engineers. Not too bad of a brood for 2 Mississippians that came to the Midwest with literally nothing and one with only a 4th grade education.
My Dad is the ultimate survivor. Born in 1930, he had a pretty rough start as a baby. Got shuffled around a bit until he landed with an aunt and uncle. One of his teachers (Mrs. Beverly) came to our house years ago and basically explained that my Dad was the ultimate "hustler". He could somehow con the other kids into doing his chores for them and pay them pennies to do it. He was also known to be a bit of a prankster too.
My Dad enlisted into the Army and was shipped out 2 weeks after he married my Mom. "Sarge" (as he was called) was in and survived the Korean War, only to come back to a country that didn't really want him. In the 1950s, he was almost hung for just "speaking" to a young, white girl. This was such a serious event, my Dad had to leave his home town and to this day has never returned to live there.
When I hear my Dad talk about how life was in the 30's and 40's, it sometimes makes me cringe. He's had to order his food through the front door of a restaurant and then walk around to the back to get it or eat it. He's been called the "N" word, probably more times than I've ever spoken it in my life. He's had to pick cotton, beans (or whatever was in the field at the time) in the scorching hot sun. After moving to the Midwest with no vehicle, he either walked or ran to work. I was told that in order to get to work (because he had very little money), he would jog almost 10 miles to get downtown and then use his money to catch a bus. He jogged because he didn't have money to catch 2 buses a day and he now had a wife and children to feed at home. My Dad was a hard worker and if he didn't do anything, he always made sure we had a roof over our heads and food on the table.
My Mom...I call her the "bestest Mother in the WHOLE world" because she is. (No...for real. She really is.) My Mother has the happiest, kindest disposition. No matter when or where or at what age I was at the time, when I would see her, her eyes would light up as if she hadn't seen me in years and she has always greeted me with a big smile and a "Hi!!" To this day, she still greets me like that.
My Mom was the master cleaner, chef, playmate and disciplinarian. She was always firm and always kind. I sware my mother can get a stain out of anything. Thankfully, I take pride in inheriting that gift. My mother ALWAYS cooked the BEST food. To this day, there are things she makes that I can't seem to duplicate...but I keep trying. I told my Mom that I always remembered being in the kitchen with her. Her response was, "You were." My Mom knew I was curious about everything she was mixing or mashing and I was always asking a million questions. She never shunned me or pushed me out of the kitchen. She just let me watch and learn. I can recall Mom making, homemade carmel corn popcorn, homemade donuts, homemade peanut brittle, rice pudding, banana pudding, homemade ice cream and the list goes on. Little did I know the hog kidneys, tails, feet and brains were considered scraps by some. My Mom always made it taste SO good, I thought the kidneys were a treat. Those ingredients were always accompanied by rice, (some kind of) beans or cabbage. I can honestly say, I never went a day hungry. It may not have been the best food to eat but it was what we could afford and it never left me hungry.
I think our house was the cleanest one on the block. Our Saturdays were extremely regimented. I think "Sarge" (Dad) came up with the idea of the cleaning frenzy that happened every Saturday morning. It was just like being in the army. We might as well have been awakened to the sound of reveille! Being the youngest, I was always up earliest. I wanted to eat and watch cartoons, however, I would eat and then be chosen to wake up one of my sister's. This particular sister, woke up swingin'!
My Mom was not a martyr but she always seem to be the person to give the greater sacrifice. Back then a whole chicken could feed 8 people. I remember asking my Mother, "Why do you always eat the backs of the chicken?", her response was, "Because it's my favorite part." Years later, I realized it was not her favorite part. She chose to give the meatiest pieces to us. My Mom had one black coat and one black dress that she wore to church every single Sunday for a few years...and very rarely would she ever miss a Sunday. My oldest sister can recall my Mother's hair being in one long pony tail down her back. I wish I could have see that. I'm sure it was beautiful but because it required more shampoo to wash and cost twice as much to go to a salon, one day my Mother took a trip to the barber shop and got it all cut off. For years, I watched my mother eat everything from bacon to hard candy and I never knew she had no molars until a few years ago. Dentures were an expense she would never fathom, so she just went without. Now, we spoil her rotten. My siblings and I almost compete in giving her things, not because we're trying to win her love, (we already have a lifetime of it) but because she's so deserving. Through everything we've going through as a family, my Mom ALWAYS kept it "classy". Ever the "lady". I thought my Mother was the epitome of womanhood. She wore long satin gowns to bed every single night. I loved how they waved in the wind and would sometimes flick me ever so lightly in the face so I could get a waft of the scent of Oil of Olay she wore. To this day, Oil Of Olay smells like my Mom...and now I use it to.
:::heavy sigh::: I just love my parents.
My Dad is the ultimate survivor. Born in 1930, he had a pretty rough start as a baby. Got shuffled around a bit until he landed with an aunt and uncle. One of his teachers (Mrs. Beverly) came to our house years ago and basically explained that my Dad was the ultimate "hustler". He could somehow con the other kids into doing his chores for them and pay them pennies to do it. He was also known to be a bit of a prankster too.
My Dad enlisted into the Army and was shipped out 2 weeks after he married my Mom. "Sarge" (as he was called) was in and survived the Korean War, only to come back to a country that didn't really want him. In the 1950s, he was almost hung for just "speaking" to a young, white girl. This was such a serious event, my Dad had to leave his home town and to this day has never returned to live there.
When I hear my Dad talk about how life was in the 30's and 40's, it sometimes makes me cringe. He's had to order his food through the front door of a restaurant and then walk around to the back to get it or eat it. He's been called the "N" word, probably more times than I've ever spoken it in my life. He's had to pick cotton, beans (or whatever was in the field at the time) in the scorching hot sun. After moving to the Midwest with no vehicle, he either walked or ran to work. I was told that in order to get to work (because he had very little money), he would jog almost 10 miles to get downtown and then use his money to catch a bus. He jogged because he didn't have money to catch 2 buses a day and he now had a wife and children to feed at home. My Dad was a hard worker and if he didn't do anything, he always made sure we had a roof over our heads and food on the table.
My Mom...I call her the "bestest Mother in the WHOLE world" because she is. (No...for real. She really is.) My Mother has the happiest, kindest disposition. No matter when or where or at what age I was at the time, when I would see her, her eyes would light up as if she hadn't seen me in years and she has always greeted me with a big smile and a "Hi!!" To this day, she still greets me like that.
My Mom was the master cleaner, chef, playmate and disciplinarian. She was always firm and always kind. I sware my mother can get a stain out of anything. Thankfully, I take pride in inheriting that gift. My mother ALWAYS cooked the BEST food. To this day, there are things she makes that I can't seem to duplicate...but I keep trying. I told my Mom that I always remembered being in the kitchen with her. Her response was, "You were." My Mom knew I was curious about everything she was mixing or mashing and I was always asking a million questions. She never shunned me or pushed me out of the kitchen. She just let me watch and learn. I can recall Mom making, homemade carmel corn popcorn, homemade donuts, homemade peanut brittle, rice pudding, banana pudding, homemade ice cream and the list goes on. Little did I know the hog kidneys, tails, feet and brains were considered scraps by some. My Mom always made it taste SO good, I thought the kidneys were a treat. Those ingredients were always accompanied by rice, (some kind of) beans or cabbage. I can honestly say, I never went a day hungry. It may not have been the best food to eat but it was what we could afford and it never left me hungry.
I think our house was the cleanest one on the block. Our Saturdays were extremely regimented. I think "Sarge" (Dad) came up with the idea of the cleaning frenzy that happened every Saturday morning. It was just like being in the army. We might as well have been awakened to the sound of reveille! Being the youngest, I was always up earliest. I wanted to eat and watch cartoons, however, I would eat and then be chosen to wake up one of my sister's. This particular sister, woke up swingin'!
My Mom was not a martyr but she always seem to be the person to give the greater sacrifice. Back then a whole chicken could feed 8 people. I remember asking my Mother, "Why do you always eat the backs of the chicken?", her response was, "Because it's my favorite part." Years later, I realized it was not her favorite part. She chose to give the meatiest pieces to us. My Mom had one black coat and one black dress that she wore to church every single Sunday for a few years...and very rarely would she ever miss a Sunday. My oldest sister can recall my Mother's hair being in one long pony tail down her back. I wish I could have see that. I'm sure it was beautiful but because it required more shampoo to wash and cost twice as much to go to a salon, one day my Mother took a trip to the barber shop and got it all cut off. For years, I watched my mother eat everything from bacon to hard candy and I never knew she had no molars until a few years ago. Dentures were an expense she would never fathom, so she just went without. Now, we spoil her rotten. My siblings and I almost compete in giving her things, not because we're trying to win her love, (we already have a lifetime of it) but because she's so deserving. Through everything we've going through as a family, my Mom ALWAYS kept it "classy". Ever the "lady". I thought my Mother was the epitome of womanhood. She wore long satin gowns to bed every single night. I loved how they waved in the wind and would sometimes flick me ever so lightly in the face so I could get a waft of the scent of Oil of Olay she wore. To this day, Oil Of Olay smells like my Mom...and now I use it to.
:::heavy sigh::: I just love my parents.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
African who? African what?
Anyone who really knows me knows I am a major history buff. Any given Wednesday, rest assured I'm watching "The Naked Archaeologist" or some documentary on IFC or HBO. Being an American, I would like to think that I live in a prosperous, thriving and progressive country. I saw a documentary yesterday that made me embarrassed to call myself an American (again). Granted, every country makes mistakes but once you realize it's a mistake, you'd think measures would be taken to avoid the same mistake again, right? Apparently not.
In the U.S., anyone born here knows all about the slave trade and what it did to indigenous Africans. Unlike other cultures that migrated to the U.S., there are millions of Americans with African ancestry that can not and will not ever know exactly what part of African, what tribe or people we have descended from. In my opinion, "African-American" has become a blanket, "catch-all" label for anyone brown-skinned with wavy or kinky hair. If I were African, Haitian, Jamaican, Cuban, etc...I might take offense to that label being thrust upon me, solely because I "look" a certain way. Let me just say, "looks" can be deceiving. My neighbor was born in Nigeria and I (of course) in the U.S. If you placed us side by side and just looked at us, you would never know. My neighbor would automatically get labeled, "African-American", however, if asked she states, "I am Nigerian." I some how feel a bit stupid when faced with an actual African and then calling myself African-American, when I have no idea what part of Africa my lineage comes from. I remember explaining to a Nigerian, we call ourselves African-American because we know (or were TOLD)we are African descendants, but don't know from what part of African we've descended from. The Nigerian's response was, "How sad.". Indeed...how sad.
I took a cultural diversity course one year. As I walked in the class, right away, I was the brownest person in the room. Our instructor asked us to divide ourselves up in our closest cultures. Because there were more European-descendants in the room, she then asked them to divide themselves up by what region of the US they came from. Me...not even thinking, joined one of the regional groups. Why? Because I saw no one like me in the room. The instructor then quietly came over and asked me to represent the African-American culture in the room. How did she know I was African-American? Did I "look" the part? Although I hated being the "representative" for all African-Americans that day, I decided I would enlighten the class a bit. I had to write down 10 things about my culture that people may not know. I can't recall all that I had written. I only remember the one thing I said that got the most reactions and that was, "Not all brown people are of African descent." I heard the gasps of surprise and thought, "Gotcha!". I went on to explain, in very early census records, the census takers were very adamant that if you were not white or mulatto, you were negro. So, you could have been Mexican...but you were listed as "Negro". You could have been Native American...but you were listed as "Negro". You could have been Cuban...but you were listed as "Negro". Through the course of time, it was then assumed, if you had any (what was called then)"Negro" characteristics (e.g. dark skin, wide nose, kinky hair), you were captured in the census as "Negro" or "Black".
As I began to search through my own genealogy, I found I am of more Irish and English descent than I am African. And despite that I have genuine green eyes, tan skin and brown hair with natural auburn hues, I am labeled that which I "look" the most like. I do think this labeling fiasco tends to happen in regions of the U.S. as well as the world that are not as culturally diverse.
As I've travelled, I noticed several things:
-In Mexico, I stuck out like a sore thumb and the natives were extremely fascinated by my green eyes.
-In Puerto Rico, I melted right in!
-In Orlando,Florida, I was mistaken for Cuban.
-In Vienna, Austria, certain ethnic minorities (e.g. Egyptians, Italians) seemed scarily enamored with me. (I loved the attention but after about a week, it got creepy.) The Viennese just stared at me and anyone that I saw that was darker than myself, seemed to run from me. lol
-In Cincinnati, OH - I was stared or glared at...by the Black folks! (What's up with that?)
-In Seattle and California in general - $$ talked, color didn't...and I did notice how very "fit" everyone was there.
My point is this, can't I be who I want to be and not what people assume I am because of how I "look"? So what if the Irish/English side is 3 generations back?!? People still cling to the culture or name of the generation that immigrated to the U.S...except for "African-Americans". We lost our names long ago. The names we now have are adopted from cities, slave masters or just names we liked and claimed as our own. How sad.
In the U.S., anyone born here knows all about the slave trade and what it did to indigenous Africans. Unlike other cultures that migrated to the U.S., there are millions of Americans with African ancestry that can not and will not ever know exactly what part of African, what tribe or people we have descended from. In my opinion, "African-American" has become a blanket, "catch-all" label for anyone brown-skinned with wavy or kinky hair. If I were African, Haitian, Jamaican, Cuban, etc...I might take offense to that label being thrust upon me, solely because I "look" a certain way. Let me just say, "looks" can be deceiving. My neighbor was born in Nigeria and I (of course) in the U.S. If you placed us side by side and just looked at us, you would never know. My neighbor would automatically get labeled, "African-American", however, if asked she states, "I am Nigerian." I some how feel a bit stupid when faced with an actual African and then calling myself African-American, when I have no idea what part of Africa my lineage comes from. I remember explaining to a Nigerian, we call ourselves African-American because we know (or were TOLD)we are African descendants, but don't know from what part of African we've descended from. The Nigerian's response was, "How sad.". Indeed...how sad.
I took a cultural diversity course one year. As I walked in the class, right away, I was the brownest person in the room. Our instructor asked us to divide ourselves up in our closest cultures. Because there were more European-descendants in the room, she then asked them to divide themselves up by what region of the US they came from. Me...not even thinking, joined one of the regional groups. Why? Because I saw no one like me in the room. The instructor then quietly came over and asked me to represent the African-American culture in the room. How did she know I was African-American? Did I "look" the part? Although I hated being the "representative" for all African-Americans that day, I decided I would enlighten the class a bit. I had to write down 10 things about my culture that people may not know. I can't recall all that I had written. I only remember the one thing I said that got the most reactions and that was, "Not all brown people are of African descent." I heard the gasps of surprise and thought, "Gotcha!". I went on to explain, in very early census records, the census takers were very adamant that if you were not white or mulatto, you were negro. So, you could have been Mexican...but you were listed as "Negro". You could have been Native American...but you were listed as "Negro". You could have been Cuban...but you were listed as "Negro". Through the course of time, it was then assumed, if you had any (what was called then)"Negro" characteristics (e.g. dark skin, wide nose, kinky hair), you were captured in the census as "Negro" or "Black".
As I began to search through my own genealogy, I found I am of more Irish and English descent than I am African. And despite that I have genuine green eyes, tan skin and brown hair with natural auburn hues, I am labeled that which I "look" the most like. I do think this labeling fiasco tends to happen in regions of the U.S. as well as the world that are not as culturally diverse.
As I've travelled, I noticed several things:
-In Mexico, I stuck out like a sore thumb and the natives were extremely fascinated by my green eyes.
-In Puerto Rico, I melted right in!
-In Orlando,Florida, I was mistaken for Cuban.
-In Vienna, Austria, certain ethnic minorities (e.g. Egyptians, Italians) seemed scarily enamored with me. (I loved the attention but after about a week, it got creepy.) The Viennese just stared at me and anyone that I saw that was darker than myself, seemed to run from me. lol
-In Cincinnati, OH - I was stared or glared at...by the Black folks! (What's up with that?)
-In Seattle and California in general - $$ talked, color didn't...and I did notice how very "fit" everyone was there.
My point is this, can't I be who I want to be and not what people assume I am because of how I "look"? So what if the Irish/English side is 3 generations back?!? People still cling to the culture or name of the generation that immigrated to the U.S...except for "African-Americans". We lost our names long ago. The names we now have are adopted from cities, slave masters or just names we liked and claimed as our own. How sad.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Hair Salon Price Rant
I have come to realize there is some major "price gouging" (a term for a seller pricing much higher than is considered reasonable or fair; prices obtained by inconsistent practices) occurring in salons. I really think this is on a global scale. The beauty industry, specifically salons have never been scrutinized on their pricings. Unless it's a retail chain (e.g. Bo Ric's, SuperCuts), salons have never had to adhere to any type of market price or standard. I suspect this is because there's a myriad of services that can be offered or requested by customers. This in no way gives them (salons) the right to charge exorbitant fees. Now, I do believe in paying for someones DEMONSTRATED expertise, but to charge an outrageous fee solely because your competition does, is unacceptable.
Prices of services in the midwest are just ridiculous. Reality shows like, "Split Ends" and "Shear Genius" have some stylists overconfident in their ability...and fees. Let's hope they begin to remember those are reality TV shows, not their OWN reality. Just because you can duplicate a style you saw executed on a TV show doesn't mean you have to charge $10-$30 more for your services.
The disparity between the prices of services is just unbelievable! They just don't make sense! Recently, a white colleague went to a salon and got her hair washed, cut (not trimmed) and styled. After (the very expected) tipping the "shampoo girl", she walks out having spent $70, only to duplicate it again the next week or week after. I can recall going to a salon about 5 years ago where I got a touch up (relaxer), trim (not cut)and flat-ironed and I was charged $85.00!!! That hurt my pocket AND my feelings because it was done by a lady I use to work with and I became one of her first customers when she graduated beauty school. I hadn't been to her in a long time but DANG...$85.00? Needless to say, that was the last time she did my hair.
What are the cost incurred with being a stylist (and not the owner of a salon)? Hair products, equipment (e.g. irons, combs, rollers, pins, clips), booth rent (which usually incorporate water, lights, phone, etc), time and expertise. I get that. Now that a lot of African-American women are going natural, the price gouging has shifted. When my hair was relaxed, I understood that some of the cost of the service was the (chemically ladened) products that the stylist used on my hair. It was normal for the stylist to use at least 4-5 different products (e.g. shampoo, conditioner, styling lotion, spritz, oil sheen, etc) on my hair. Now that I'm natural, why isn't the cost of those products (that I no longer want used on my hair)deducted from my bill?
It's crazy but sometimes when I get to a salon...especially if it's a new salon or stylist, I almost feel like a hostage or I have the ominous feeling that I'm about to be robbed. (LOL...that's so sad!) I am the client and I want to encourage and empower people just like me to take back their "chutzpah"! Salons and stylists of the world, listen up! Here are our (my...tee hee) demands:
1. I want the option to bring in the (natural) products I want used in my hair if you don't provide them...and deduct that from what you're charging me.
2. I want the option to prepare (e.g. shampoo or co-wash)my hair at home, if all I want you to do is twist, corn roll, palm roll or braid it.
3. Consult with me BEFORE you do any other treatment on my hair. Some of us get taken by the stylist statement that starts off with, "I'm going to do a...to your hair today, okay?" or "This is what I'm going to do for you today...". Don't make it sound like a favor, when it's really a $50 service I unknowingly agreed to.
4. Make sure your prices are CONSISTENT. (I'm intelligent...I understand inflation, so I understand that as the cost of products go up, the price of services will go up...but not by $10 per month!)
5. Can I please have the option to pay the shampoo girl without being the topic of conversation (after I leave) when I don't? DANG! Some days, I barely have enough money to pay the stylist and the "surprise" services, let alone leave a $5-10 tip for the shampoo-er.
6. DO NOT request that I make an appointment just for a non-refundable $20-40 consultation that lasts 15 minutes! That is absolutely inconsiderate...and a waste of my time and yours.
7. If I request a service, TELL me what HOW you're going to do it BEFORE you do it. I do not like surprises when it comes to my hair.
8. If you know I requested a service that will harm my hair, have the integrity, maturity, kindness and professionalism to tell me the consequences of my request!
9. Know your abilities and expertise. Let me know if I'm requesting a service you've never done before. It could potentially save both of us THOUSANDS of dollars in court costs.
10. Never forget...your livelihood is based on the satisfaction of your clientele. It amazes me when stylist act like they're doing ME a favor by servicing ME!
Color me jaded. I'm done with the self-absorbed, insolent behaviors of stylist. I can't tolerate them in person and I can't even stomach them on the reality shows. I have come to the conclusion that I'd rather go to a "kitchen-tician" than to be subjected to rude behavior and price gouging practices.
Remember when salons were called "beauty shops"? Maybe that's when they lost their customer focus and charm. Ahhhh...those were the days.
Prices of services in the midwest are just ridiculous. Reality shows like, "Split Ends" and "Shear Genius" have some stylists overconfident in their ability...and fees. Let's hope they begin to remember those are reality TV shows, not their OWN reality. Just because you can duplicate a style you saw executed on a TV show doesn't mean you have to charge $10-$30 more for your services.
The disparity between the prices of services is just unbelievable! They just don't make sense! Recently, a white colleague went to a salon and got her hair washed, cut (not trimmed) and styled. After (the very expected) tipping the "shampoo girl", she walks out having spent $70, only to duplicate it again the next week or week after. I can recall going to a salon about 5 years ago where I got a touch up (relaxer), trim (not cut)and flat-ironed and I was charged $85.00!!! That hurt my pocket AND my feelings because it was done by a lady I use to work with and I became one of her first customers when she graduated beauty school. I hadn't been to her in a long time but DANG...$85.00? Needless to say, that was the last time she did my hair.
What are the cost incurred with being a stylist (and not the owner of a salon)? Hair products, equipment (e.g. irons, combs, rollers, pins, clips), booth rent (which usually incorporate water, lights, phone, etc), time and expertise. I get that. Now that a lot of African-American women are going natural, the price gouging has shifted. When my hair was relaxed, I understood that some of the cost of the service was the (chemically ladened) products that the stylist used on my hair. It was normal for the stylist to use at least 4-5 different products (e.g. shampoo, conditioner, styling lotion, spritz, oil sheen, etc) on my hair. Now that I'm natural, why isn't the cost of those products (that I no longer want used on my hair)deducted from my bill?
It's crazy but sometimes when I get to a salon...especially if it's a new salon or stylist, I almost feel like a hostage or I have the ominous feeling that I'm about to be robbed. (LOL...that's so sad!) I am the client and I want to encourage and empower people just like me to take back their "chutzpah"! Salons and stylists of the world, listen up! Here are our (my...tee hee) demands:
1. I want the option to bring in the (natural) products I want used in my hair if you don't provide them...and deduct that from what you're charging me.
2. I want the option to prepare (e.g. shampoo or co-wash)my hair at home, if all I want you to do is twist, corn roll, palm roll or braid it.
3. Consult with me BEFORE you do any other treatment on my hair. Some of us get taken by the stylist statement that starts off with, "I'm going to do a...to your hair today, okay?" or "This is what I'm going to do for you today...". Don't make it sound like a favor, when it's really a $50 service I unknowingly agreed to.
4. Make sure your prices are CONSISTENT. (I'm intelligent...I understand inflation, so I understand that as the cost of products go up, the price of services will go up...but not by $10 per month!)
5. Can I please have the option to pay the shampoo girl without being the topic of conversation (after I leave) when I don't? DANG! Some days, I barely have enough money to pay the stylist and the "surprise" services, let alone leave a $5-10 tip for the shampoo-er.
6. DO NOT request that I make an appointment just for a non-refundable $20-40 consultation that lasts 15 minutes! That is absolutely inconsiderate...and a waste of my time and yours.
7. If I request a service, TELL me what HOW you're going to do it BEFORE you do it. I do not like surprises when it comes to my hair.
8. If you know I requested a service that will harm my hair, have the integrity, maturity, kindness and professionalism to tell me the consequences of my request!
9. Know your abilities and expertise. Let me know if I'm requesting a service you've never done before. It could potentially save both of us THOUSANDS of dollars in court costs.
10. Never forget...your livelihood is based on the satisfaction of your clientele. It amazes me when stylist act like they're doing ME a favor by servicing ME!
Color me jaded. I'm done with the self-absorbed, insolent behaviors of stylist. I can't tolerate them in person and I can't even stomach them on the reality shows. I have come to the conclusion that I'd rather go to a "kitchen-tician" than to be subjected to rude behavior and price gouging practices.
Remember when salons were called "beauty shops"? Maybe that's when they lost their customer focus and charm. Ahhhh...those were the days.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Weight Loss Surgery - The Untold Stories
Often times you see weight loss surgery commercials and you see fit and trim individuals, enjoying life, enjoying their kids or grandkids and their talking about how they've shrunk from a size "double digit" to a size "single digit". Well there are other stories that are never told. The following is just a few stories that will never be in a weight loss surgery commercial. All names will be changed to protect the innocent:
Story #1 - At Bobby's highest weight, he was almost 450lbs. Bobby had Roux-En-Y and came home with some seriously adverse affects. Bobby couldn't hold any food down, so his main diet was Ensure...morning, noon and night. He would often "dump" the Ensure for what seemed like no reason. Bobby began to loose the weight but was miserable for most of the time. Fast forward 4 years later and Bobby is still wavering between real food and Ensure. Suddenly a quarter size lump appears on Bobby's side. Doesn't seem to be anything to worry about until suddenly a month later the quarter has grown to a softball. A strange tumor from no where suddenly appeared with the appetite of a leech. The tumor thrived on a nearby blood supply. Any progress Bobby made with eating was lost again. On top of all that, Bobby suffers from Degenerative Disk Disease. Are the tumor and DDD a result of the weight loss surgery? Who knows? Better yet, will any of Bobby's physicians investigate to find out? Doubtful.
Story #2 - Cindy and I had Roux-En-Y the exact same day. It wasn't until the next day when a physical therapist came in to check on me that I realized something went wrong with Cindy's surgery. The therapist said, "That lady that had surgery the same day as you isn't doing so well. You're up and moving but she's still laying in bed with an oxygen mask on. I don't think her Roux-En-Y was successful. Something prevented them from completing her surgery."
I saw Cindy at the 5 day check up and she didn't look like someone who had just had the surgery...she looked like a candidate, as she huffed and puffed and strained to breathe through her oxygen mask.
Story #3 - Judy had surgery almost a year before I did. Suddenly one day a colleague says, "Judy was taken to emergency. She almost died." I never thought her trip to emergency had anything to do with her weight loss surgery until details were given. Apparently Judy was still taking the Flintstone chewables she took right after her surgery a year ago. She didn't bother to tell her physician, nor did he ask about what "kind" of vitamins she was taking. Judy almost died of anemia.
Story #4 - Tina had Roux-En-Y and so did her Mother-in-law, Gladys. Gladys' weight loss surgery was a little too successful. Suddenly her children began to worry about her because she began to quickly look like a skeleton with skin. People began to think she had cancer. Come to find out Gladys had a gastro-intestinal problem, and was slowly starving to death. Long story short, Gladys had to have her Roux-En-Y reversed.
Story #5 - A friend told me another friend had Roux-En-Y and 6 months later, she suddenly died in her sleep. Was it natural causes? Well...that's what they told her family.
Story #6 is my own. In 1999, I weighed 435lbs. My weight was a combination of poor eating, stationery living and PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome). The Roux-En-Y helped me change my eating habits and water aerobics ceased the stationery living but no one factored in the PCOS (which also has obesity as a symptom). At the informational Gastric Bypass meeting, we were told we had a "golden year" to eat right, exercise and lose weight or..."Cinderella's chariot turned back into a pumpkin". I can remember the physician saying, "You will turn back into a normal person with a weight loss problem." Who would have known my "golden year" would be plagued with foot pain, orthopaedic appointments and a series of non-functioning orthotics to wear in my shoes. I spent that "golden year" running from orthopaedic specialist to orthopaedic specialist only to find out (at the end of that golden year), I had a torn tendon in my left foot that needed to be re-attached. So almost one year to the date of my Roux-En-Y, I had the tendon attached and was bedridden for 8 weeks. After 8 weeks I began to walk around with a walking cast. Four weeks later, while walking to the church office, I suddenly (and might I add gracefully) fell. No tripping...no suddenly loss of footing, it was as if I just...fell. When I hit the soft grass I heard a "snap, snap". Before I felt any pain, I remember thinking, "What was that?". After reaching the hospital via ambulance, x-rays showed a BROKEN right ankle (remember...I just had surgery on the left) and fractured right tibia. I immediately started to cry. I had just gotten back to work and was attempting to finish my classes so I could graduate two months later.
Emergency surgery and 4 weeks later, I was being wheeled to class. Four weeks after that, we had to rent a scooter for two months ($2200.00) so I could maneuver around my job and NO my insurance WOULD NOT PAY FOR IT! After 8 weeks, I had to return to surgery to get the hardware out of my ankle, so that would account for a total of 4 months of being bedridden.
I'm now 6 years post Roux-En-Y and 20 lbs heavier. The following year I spent on narcotics due to the pain from the tendon repair. I spent the first 4 months of the following year getting weaned off of the narcotics! The year after that I had a slow but consistent weight loss. The year after THAT was started with pep, courage and a commitment to exercise with my best friend. We faithfully went to the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 5:30am to do water aerobics. We lost inches everywhere...we were SO excited! Suddenly...almost simultaneously, she needed knee surgery and I had a pinched nerve that left me dragging my right leg Quasimodo-style. What a kick in the teeth! I was on medical leave for 4 months, diagnosed with Degenerative Disk Disease (yeah, same thing as Bobby in Story #1)...bedridden because I couldn't sit. The result...after decompression therapy, I got back on my feet... with an added 10-15 lbs. Okay...so...back to work I go for only 4 months and I start feeling horrible pain in my neck. Lo and behold, MRI results come back and every single disk in my cervical spine is either bulging or herniated, not to mention I'm still suffering from the herniations in my lumbar area that caused the pinched nerve earlier in the year. Three months of therapy and I'm still in pain but back to work. Oh yeah...and another 10-15 lbs heavier because I couldn't do anything but lay around.
As I look in mirrors with a bit of disappointment, I can only focus on the current attempts to eat healthier because aerobics of any kind is out of the question right now. So, there you have it...the untold weight loss surgery stories.
Story #1 - At Bobby's highest weight, he was almost 450lbs. Bobby had Roux-En-Y and came home with some seriously adverse affects. Bobby couldn't hold any food down, so his main diet was Ensure...morning, noon and night. He would often "dump" the Ensure for what seemed like no reason. Bobby began to loose the weight but was miserable for most of the time. Fast forward 4 years later and Bobby is still wavering between real food and Ensure. Suddenly a quarter size lump appears on Bobby's side. Doesn't seem to be anything to worry about until suddenly a month later the quarter has grown to a softball. A strange tumor from no where suddenly appeared with the appetite of a leech. The tumor thrived on a nearby blood supply. Any progress Bobby made with eating was lost again. On top of all that, Bobby suffers from Degenerative Disk Disease. Are the tumor and DDD a result of the weight loss surgery? Who knows? Better yet, will any of Bobby's physicians investigate to find out? Doubtful.
Story #2 - Cindy and I had Roux-En-Y the exact same day. It wasn't until the next day when a physical therapist came in to check on me that I realized something went wrong with Cindy's surgery. The therapist said, "That lady that had surgery the same day as you isn't doing so well. You're up and moving but she's still laying in bed with an oxygen mask on. I don't think her Roux-En-Y was successful. Something prevented them from completing her surgery."
I saw Cindy at the 5 day check up and she didn't look like someone who had just had the surgery...she looked like a candidate, as she huffed and puffed and strained to breathe through her oxygen mask.
Story #3 - Judy had surgery almost a year before I did. Suddenly one day a colleague says, "Judy was taken to emergency. She almost died." I never thought her trip to emergency had anything to do with her weight loss surgery until details were given. Apparently Judy was still taking the Flintstone chewables she took right after her surgery a year ago. She didn't bother to tell her physician, nor did he ask about what "kind" of vitamins she was taking. Judy almost died of anemia.
Story #4 - Tina had Roux-En-Y and so did her Mother-in-law, Gladys. Gladys' weight loss surgery was a little too successful. Suddenly her children began to worry about her because she began to quickly look like a skeleton with skin. People began to think she had cancer. Come to find out Gladys had a gastro-intestinal problem, and was slowly starving to death. Long story short, Gladys had to have her Roux-En-Y reversed.
Story #5 - A friend told me another friend had Roux-En-Y and 6 months later, she suddenly died in her sleep. Was it natural causes? Well...that's what they told her family.
Story #6 is my own. In 1999, I weighed 435lbs. My weight was a combination of poor eating, stationery living and PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome). The Roux-En-Y helped me change my eating habits and water aerobics ceased the stationery living but no one factored in the PCOS (which also has obesity as a symptom). At the informational Gastric Bypass meeting, we were told we had a "golden year" to eat right, exercise and lose weight or..."Cinderella's chariot turned back into a pumpkin". I can remember the physician saying, "You will turn back into a normal person with a weight loss problem." Who would have known my "golden year" would be plagued with foot pain, orthopaedic appointments and a series of non-functioning orthotics to wear in my shoes. I spent that "golden year" running from orthopaedic specialist to orthopaedic specialist only to find out (at the end of that golden year), I had a torn tendon in my left foot that needed to be re-attached. So almost one year to the date of my Roux-En-Y, I had the tendon attached and was bedridden for 8 weeks. After 8 weeks I began to walk around with a walking cast. Four weeks later, while walking to the church office, I suddenly (and might I add gracefully) fell. No tripping...no suddenly loss of footing, it was as if I just...fell. When I hit the soft grass I heard a "snap, snap". Before I felt any pain, I remember thinking, "What was that?". After reaching the hospital via ambulance, x-rays showed a BROKEN right ankle (remember...I just had surgery on the left) and fractured right tibia. I immediately started to cry. I had just gotten back to work and was attempting to finish my classes so I could graduate two months later.
Emergency surgery and 4 weeks later, I was being wheeled to class. Four weeks after that, we had to rent a scooter for two months ($2200.00) so I could maneuver around my job and NO my insurance WOULD NOT PAY FOR IT! After 8 weeks, I had to return to surgery to get the hardware out of my ankle, so that would account for a total of 4 months of being bedridden.
I'm now 6 years post Roux-En-Y and 20 lbs heavier. The following year I spent on narcotics due to the pain from the tendon repair. I spent the first 4 months of the following year getting weaned off of the narcotics! The year after that I had a slow but consistent weight loss. The year after THAT was started with pep, courage and a commitment to exercise with my best friend. We faithfully went to the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 5:30am to do water aerobics. We lost inches everywhere...we were SO excited! Suddenly...almost simultaneously, she needed knee surgery and I had a pinched nerve that left me dragging my right leg Quasimodo-style. What a kick in the teeth! I was on medical leave for 4 months, diagnosed with Degenerative Disk Disease (yeah, same thing as Bobby in Story #1)...bedridden because I couldn't sit. The result...after decompression therapy, I got back on my feet... with an added 10-15 lbs. Okay...so...back to work I go for only 4 months and I start feeling horrible pain in my neck. Lo and behold, MRI results come back and every single disk in my cervical spine is either bulging or herniated, not to mention I'm still suffering from the herniations in my lumbar area that caused the pinched nerve earlier in the year. Three months of therapy and I'm still in pain but back to work. Oh yeah...and another 10-15 lbs heavier because I couldn't do anything but lay around.
As I look in mirrors with a bit of disappointment, I can only focus on the current attempts to eat healthier because aerobics of any kind is out of the question right now. So, there you have it...the untold weight loss surgery stories.
The Lion King
Wow! Wow! Wow! Never have I seen such brilliance in color and song! It was amazing! Anticipating long lines, my husband and I got there almost an hour early. Okay...so I didn't know they didn't actually seat you until a half hour before the start of the show. We made it to our seats! Sweet! Orchestra seating..eighth row back. Man! I'll be able to look up their noses. LOL
We nestle in our seats and lo and behold...the people in the middle seats are LATE! Why does that happen? It's always the people in the middle of the row that are late! As if the cramped seats weren't enough, then we had to get up 3 times for the people in the middle of our row...sheesh!
Suddenly the lights dim and you hear a singing but you don't know where it's coming from. There...in the balcony! Cool! Who starts their first act in the balcony?!? LOL It was a very pleasant surprise. But wait...an even stronger voice enters stage left. It's Rafiki!! And boy does that character have a set of lungs!
Rafiki suddenly starts rambling in an African dialect. I turn to my niece and whisper, "I think I need sub-titles." Rafiki rambles on for almost 60 seconds and the beauty of the little soliloquy, was the character was telling a story in a language no one could understand...yet we all understood it.
There was one burst of color after the next...one musical crescendo after the next. Surprises were EVERYWHERE! The HUGE elephant down the aisle, the graceful leopard, the leaping gazelles, the dancers, the grass, the elegant giraffes...the colors, artistry and creativity...it was so overwhelming but you didn't mind your brain going into "hyper-optical-sensitivity" (ok...I made that up)! It amazed me how your own imagination fell in sync with the imagination of the creators of the musical. It was absolutely wondrous and I would gladly go see it again!
We nestle in our seats and lo and behold...the people in the middle seats are LATE! Why does that happen? It's always the people in the middle of the row that are late! As if the cramped seats weren't enough, then we had to get up 3 times for the people in the middle of our row...sheesh!
Suddenly the lights dim and you hear a singing but you don't know where it's coming from. There...in the balcony! Cool! Who starts their first act in the balcony?!? LOL It was a very pleasant surprise. But wait...an even stronger voice enters stage left. It's Rafiki!! And boy does that character have a set of lungs!
Rafiki suddenly starts rambling in an African dialect. I turn to my niece and whisper, "I think I need sub-titles." Rafiki rambles on for almost 60 seconds and the beauty of the little soliloquy, was the character was telling a story in a language no one could understand...yet we all understood it.
There was one burst of color after the next...one musical crescendo after the next. Surprises were EVERYWHERE! The HUGE elephant down the aisle, the graceful leopard, the leaping gazelles, the dancers, the grass, the elegant giraffes...the colors, artistry and creativity...it was so overwhelming but you didn't mind your brain going into "hyper-optical-sensitivity" (ok...I made that up)! It amazed me how your own imagination fell in sync with the imagination of the creators of the musical. It was absolutely wondrous and I would gladly go see it again!
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Hallelujah in Hebrew While songs by Richard Smallwood ("The Highest Praise") and CeCe Winans ("Hallelujah Praise")... -
Well, it's finally here...2009. I'm really glad because 2008 was "hellish". It was a true "trying of my faith"...