Life of a stylist

I’ve been working while I’m sick. I feel horrible. In case you didn’t know some stylists not all take to heart the stories we hear. When you leave my chair believe it or not I cry at the sad things I hear . I don’t regret choosing this career. I’ve heard more confessions than a priest. I’ve had the some of the best belly laughs, I learn recipes; people’s cultures. My clients feed me, buy me gifts from their vacation. There is more than styling hair. It’s a family affair  you loose clients after 18 years and you gain 5 more.  It’s a rotating door. I’m deciding whether I should go to the emergency room and check myself in or go to sleep. I feel like there is water in my lungs. I’m not in the mood to find out what the problem is. Today is passing and tomorrow is another day. The only thing I would do differently if I could turn the hands of time is to take vacations, drop toxic people the first 48 hours of meeting them, charge my worth and not wear my heart on my sleeves. I hope to be doing hair forever. I have other things I want to do when I get better, for now I’m going to go eat some Mexican chicken soup and see what I decide to do after from there.

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