The Chair

The Chair

Hello. My name is Banji and I am a boymom.

For me, this has always meant that manicures, shopping, makeup, anything pink meant absolutely nothing. My main concerns were making sure my boys were fed, their friends were fed, Husband #1 was fed; making sure everyone had clean undergarments, clean sheets, clean towels, the proper sporting equipment, and that everyone got to hockey practice on time. No gymnastics, no jewelry making, no figure skating. Boy stuff. Smells. Dirt. Mets, Yankees, Rangers, Devils, Vikings, Panthers, and Rams — and I didn’t have to watch any of those games with them unless I really wanted to. My life, thank God, was perfect.

The day of Son #2’s bar mitzvah, I put on a dress that I bought at Neiman Marcus. I had my hair and my makeup done. I thought I looked like a decent human being. I came downstairs, my beautiful boys looked at me and said, “Mom, you look like a witch.” Ahh, that is what children are for, to give you a sense of reality. But it just validated why I never got dressed up. My boys loved me just the way I was. Rolls and all. But then things changed.

When I first started going gray, I would commit the cardinal sin of pulling the hairs out of my head. I am taller than most women, so no one really noticed (or cared) about the changes going on on my head, so I just kept pulling them out. But one fine day, one of my precious boys said, “Eww mom, what is with the gray hair????” Like I had done something to offend them. Wait a second, you never cared that I wore the same Billy Joel t-shirt until it had so many holes in it that it practically disintegrated. You never commented on the fact that I wore the same black turtleneck until the color faded to purple, or the yoga pants that had holes in the knees, but you take offense to my hair color? Seriously?

Yes, they did. So I started coloring it.

For a boymom whose favorite form of self-care is eating and watching Netflix, going to a “beauty parlor,” as my grandmother would call it, was not on my list of things to do. And spending the money on coloring my hair was not something that Husband #1 would want me to do. But to make my adorable boys happy, that is what I did. Of course, present-day adorable boys want me to cover my hair, but that is just not happening.

Son #1 has a friend who, for reasons that do not matter, kind of moved in with us for a few weeks during covid. It was Husband #1, Son #1’s friend, and me. We had a lovely time, and he was a wonderful guest. Very polite, cleaned up after himself, and moved our high riser down to the basement after Husband #1 tried to help him. Yes, it was easier for Son #1’s friend to move it himself than have dear Husband #1 help him. Good times.

Son #1’s friend started dating his current (and, God willing, only) wife toward the end of covid, and we were so excited for him. Unfortunately, we could not go to the wedding because of avelut, but we got to babysit for Strudel because Son #1 and Dil #1 went to Chicago for the wedding.  (That eased the pain of not being able to attend.)

Fast forward to last week, when we had the adorable couple over for Shabbos dinner (and then lunch, but that is irrelevant to the story). I discovered that Son #1’s friend’s wife had just started a business called “The Chair.” She cuts hair, colors hair, does blowouts (she also works with wigs, but as I mentioned before, I am still not covering my hair, even though I love my boys very, very much). She went to school for this, and since I was due for a hair coloring, I decided to make an appointment.

I am thrilled to report that she actually knows what she is doing, and her prices are really reasonable (which made Husband #1 happy) and she is conveniently located in the same building as The Gym of Englewood. And she is open on Sundays!  But the best thing of all, she has great snacks….and, again, I can bring it all back to food.

You can get in touch with her by following her on Instagram at Yakira Rubin or reach out to me for her number. Only simchas!

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck was very happy to go to The Gym and not have to do any exercise, even though she needs to…

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