Thank goodness for my mom, or I wouldn’t be a hairdresser.
Growing up, my mom, sister, and myself were sent to the salon with a blank check from pops every 3 months. We’d be SO excited for our fresh highlights, three silly blondes giggling our way through the front door of the salon.
The drive home was always a little less exciting, followed by my mom locking herself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. My poor dad, living with all women, even our yellow lab a girl.
This cycle never changed, my mom never loved her hair, her stylists- (emphasis on the plural)- never really listened, her experiences weren’t relaxing, and the ticket wasn’t cheap. My mom, the most beautiful woman in the world, didn’t feel beautiful.
Fast forward a few years, yours truly had enough. It’s in my make up to care and concern for the happiness of others, what better way to provide that than to make people feel beautiful every single day? So! I went to beauty school. Being recruited by an Atlanta salon and leaving my madre wasn’t in the plan, nor ending up in Chicago, but you can bet my mom has an amazing excuse to see me every six weeks!
Happy Mother’s Day to the woman responsible for Your Stylist AJ. I love you.