A Day at the Salon


From the 
Jessie Hart 
My first Salon

My first visit to an all woman beauty salon was an unforgettable experience. It happened shortly after I transitioned into a fulltime feminine life when I decided I was transgender. At first, when I came out to her, she responded overwhelmingly positively and volunteered to take me out shopping. Seeing as how my wardrobe wasn't in too bad of a shape, I politely turned her down.

As it turned out, my birthday wasn't too far in the future and my daughter made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She asked if she could make me an appointment to her upscale hair salon for a cut and color of my hair which thankfully was reaching the length to actually do it. It became the best birthday present I ever received except when she was born. Which happened exactly a month before my birthday. So I accepted the gift not fully realizing what I was getting myself into.

As the day of my appointment approached, I rapidly became more terrified of the unknown which awaited me. I was so new to the opportunity coming up, I wondered what I would even ask for as far as a style when I arrived at the salon. It turned out I didn't have anything to worry about other than containing my fear. When I arrived, my daughter was waiting for me to guide me through the process which both embarrassed me but at the same time relived me because I had at least one friendly face to fall back on if I needed it.

I found most of my fears would unfounded because everyone, starting with the receptionist was very nice and even asked if she could help me to a glass of wine or coffee. I wanted to say, just leave me the bottle of wine but settled for a cup of coffee. As I nervously sipped my coffee my daughter arrived  and I found it was time for me to walk the "gauntlet". In other words, the salon seemed to be a huge line of stylists and chairs which reached out to the front door. In order to meet my stylist I would have to walk clear down the aisle of other women in chairs who had nothing better to do than stare at me. To say I was uneasy was an understatement. Once I was seated I began to relax and enjoy what would become one of the most unique experiences of my gender life up to that point. It turned out I had plenty of input into the color and style of my new hair. Since I had always admired red heads, I decided on a reddish streaked coloring with very little of my hair length taken off. 

Before I knew it, my hair was full of aluminum foil and my body was reacting to an overdose of estrogen in the room. Once I fully settled down, I felt I had as much of a reason as any other woman to be there.  Immediately I knew why cis women spend so much time and money on their hair in salons. It was truly a feminine reinvigorating experience. I felt bad about all the times in my male days when I didn't notice my wives' hair following their salon visits. Once I had gone through the hair pampering the first time, I couldn't wait to go back. The problem was affording it on my limited finances. In no way could I pay the bill my daughter gifted me on a regular basis. It wouldn't matter anyway because shortly I would be moving away from the area and in with Liz in Cincinnati. 

Once I settled in, it took me awhile to find another local stylist. Ironically I found her at one of my transgender-cross dresser support meetings I was going to.  The group brought in a stylist with a transgender son and I ended up making the first of many appointments. Sadly, she retired from the business not long ago and I have relied upon my wife Liz to trim my long hair. One thing for sure is, even though others continue to do a great job with my hair, nothing will ever match the wonderful first salon visit I experienced. As I said, I could have skipped a weekly dose of estrogen after going.