As anyone who takes one look at my unruly mop will realise, I seldom sit in the hairdresser’s chair. Christine Hannon, however, wielded the scissors and a sympathetic ear for many years. A hairdresser will hear many stories, but it is less often that they share their own. Christine Hannon has been a model, hairdresser and make-up artist and she shares her own story in her book, “A Hairdresser’s Diary” which gives a glimpse of a life lived in front of a mirror.

“Hairdressing is an act of transformation. We search for the hairdresser that can change us with just the right cut, just the right style. When we find our hairdresser, we make a new friend, often telling them stories about our lives that we don’t share with everyone. They become the keeper of our diary. Sometimes we wonder what the world looks like from their eyes. The Hairdresser’s Diary lets us read those stories, starting with the hairdresser’s own. This book is the story of a little girl who through a childhood full of struggles, hardships and pain had a dream. That dream was to someday become a hairdresser. Follow her as she trades her dollies in for the real thing. This is the diary of a hairdresser who had a calling and a great memory. It is filled with stories of pain, sadness, gossip, angst, triumph, challenge and most of all, humour. This is more than just an ordinary book of hairdressing stories. There are times I will jog our memory and lessons to be learned. You will read things about hairdressing you may have never imagined. You might even look at your hairdresser in a whole new light after reading this book.”

I was both pleased and delighted to write a guest post on Sue’s blog. I am not one who has ever been short of words, until now.
I was born Jan 21st, 1945 in St Catherine’s Ont. I am of Ukrainian descent on my father’s side and English on my mother’s. I was an only child and one would think I would be spoiled, especially, by my mother’s 22 siblings, of which she was the eldest. After my parents separated when I was two we moved to Toronto. For the first few years of my life I can only remember there being my mother and I.
At the age of six my mother accepted a job, a long way from Toronto, in rural Ontario. She was to be the live-in housekeeper for a family of six children and their chronically ill grandmother. The children’s mother had passed away from cancer the year before leaving children ages three through sixteen. Almost instantly my world and life changed. We went from big city life with all the luxuries afforded a middle class family to living out in the middle of nowhere. There was no running water, or indoor plumbing, or electricity or any of the other conveniences I had been used to. The children’s father was a long-haul truck driver who was gone most of the week.

In the Eye of the Beholder, Christine Hannon

My childhood was not one out of a fairytale story book. I soon learned what it was like to be hungry, cold, lonely, and unwanted. It was soon obvious that my mother and this strange, new, man were not strangers at all and she chose him and his family over me. I found myself being shipped from relative to relative, foster home to foster home. On one of my ‘vacations’ the family moved to the small town close by where we had all the amenities.
By the age of ten my dreams were filled with images to do with hair, and how I could use my imagination to style and create new looks. I used the Sears catalogue, sketching in new styles on the paper models. I would style my dolls hair or make new hair from old rags, corn tassels or even shredded paper. My mother let me to fuss over her as I conjured up new looks. When I was thirteen I used a pair of old sheers to cut her hair. I was hooked this was to be the world I would escape to.
I was sixteen when I left home and moved to London Ont. I could no longer stand the abuse. My mother in one of her ‘in between moods’ came with me. While she worked, I found a beauty salon that would take me on as an apprentice. It was not long though, that my mother deserted me and went back to her other family. My new boss became my mentor and with her help I enrolled in the local hairdressing school. I was certainly in my element.
While there I was given the rare opportunity to earn a modeling career. I was five foot, six and a half inches tall, eighty-two pounds, with perfect posture. I paid for my classes by working for the agency, as a runway model for Simpson Sears. I also worked three nights and Saturdays, for my mentor as a shampoo girl, to earn enough to pay for a tiny room in a girl’s boarding house. Sometimes I had enough for food, sometimes not. Determined to live my dream, I sacrificed without complaint.

Waterfall, Christine Hannon

It was while going to hairdressing school that I met Ron. I was nineteen when we married fifty-two years ago. Although he came from a very happy, stable family we had to work hard for everything we needed or wanted. I didn’t mind, for I had someone who truly loved me and I had someone to love. Our daughter Christine made us a family. Five years later, Terry, our first son was born.
Soon after, we were involved in a severe car accident, when a drunk driver changed our lives forever. It was at that moment that I lost my careers as hairdresser, model and make-up artist. I was now to live the rest of my life with chronic pain. Although the seven other car accidents were contributors as well. When Douglas came along four years later he would complete our family.
We moved often with Ron’s job. We would finally end up in Paris Ont. Christine made us grandparents when we were only thirty-nine, with our first grandchild, Shandra. Twenty years later, Douglas, made us grandparents again, giving us Ronnie. Terry, too busy with his medical career is yet to be married.
No longer able to work in my craft I needed to find a way to help deal with this life of pain. I endured over thirty surgeries, surviving cancer twice. I have always been a very positive, outgoing and creative person so I started writing poetry again, something I had not done for some time. I taught myself to paint, first on clothing, then stone, murals, wood and finally on canvas. I kept my mind busy successfully selling for several home party companies. Still, I found the time to do hair for family and friends.
I started a support group, for all who live with chronic pain, called Share a Smile or S.A.S. for short. Three years ago I was encouraged to write a book about my life, including my hairdressing stories. I wrote and published ‘A Hairdresser’s Diary’. I have just finished the sequel to that book entitled ‘Scissor’s Retired.’ Now at seventy my husband and I are retired, due to my health we are living with our son Douglas, his wife Linda and our ten year old grandson Ronnie, in Woodstock Ont.
I am a member of Probus, in Woodstock, I continue to paint, write poetry, books and short stories. We are proud of our truly wonderful, loving and supportive family.

Christine’s links

https://ahairdressersdiaries.wordpress.com/about/

http://www.ahairdressersdiary.com

http://www.amazon.com/Hairdressers-Diary-looking-reflection-ourselves/dp/1475164289

https://ca.linkedin.com/pub/christine-hannon/14/6b9/67b

https://www.facebook.com/ChristineHannonAuthor

https://www.facebook.com/sassychris

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15794357-a-hairdresser-s-diary

http://www.parisstaronline.com/2012/05/25/local-artist-author-and-poet-persevereshttps://angelsandsmiles.wordpress.comhttp://www.fanstory.com/cercie