File This Under Necessary
Dear Barb, I find it hard to justify spending money when it comes to self-care (think physio, massage, nails or hair). I’m in a constant internal argument between feeling guilty whilst knowing it’s something I do want to spend some time and money on. Help!
Well sugar, let me answer your question with another question:
Do you oil your blades? Wipe your scissors? Yank the fluff from your brushes and sharpen your tools when they start pulling more than they’re cutting?
I’ll bet my best perm you do—because you’re a groomer, and a good one at that. So why, pray tell, are you leaving the most important tool in your kit to rust?
Yes, doll. I mean you.
I get it—this economy’s tighter than a hand-scissored teddy foot. But I can tell you from personal experience (and more than a few years of trying to outsmart my own guilt) that I show up sharper, sassier, and saner when I feel good. And that just so happens to be when I catch my reflection and see a perm so perfect it could stop traffic.
Sure, I could spend that money on the veggie patch I swore would make us self-sufficient (except for meat and carbs, obviously), or replacing the Christmas tablecloth my daughter destroyed after a few too many proseccos (she is paying for that, and yes—I do look way too young to have a daughter, but thank you for noticing).
Here’s the thing:
Once your “needs” are sorted—roof over your head, bills paid, fridge full, car running, a little buffer for a rainy day—the so-called “selfish” stuff might actually be the very thing keeping you functioning.
Now, before anyone tries to sue me into perm retirement—if it’s a choice between a manicure and your mental health care, see the professional, not the stylist.
But if your budget allows a little wiggle room, then yes—book the damn appointment. There’s even science behind it! (Which, full disclosure, I only looked up to win an argument with Mr Taylor-Taylor about whether my hair appointment was more essential than buying his and hers matching bike shorts. It was.)
What all the research showed, though, was that self-care only works if you’re doing it for yourself—not because you’re chasing someone else’s idea of “beautiful.” My daughter assures me I’m safe from that trap, especially with my perm, though I’m still deciding whether that was a compliment or a cry for help.
Lately I’ve seen more glammed-up nail sets on groomers than a bridal expo at a dog show – and I love it. We stare at our hands all day, why not give them something fabulous to look at? It’s not vanity—it’s visual enrichment. Same goes for massages. You’ll stop mid-groom to tension your scissors, but ignore the screaming lower back that’s been threatening to quit since Wednesday? Darling. No.
So here’s your permission slip, handwritten by yours truly:
If it fits your budget, makes you feel better, and isn’t about impressing your ex’s new girlfriend—then go for it. Treat yourself, don’t cheat yourself.
Barb’s Budget Spa Picks (Flawless Vibes, No Fancy Price Tag)
And if a trip to the spa still feels like it belongs in another tax bracket—well, don’t hang up your hopes just yet. The Scent range from igroomhub is my not-so-secret weapon for recreating spa day vibes without the spa day price tag. Here’s how I stay fabulous on a groomer’s budget:
$12.95 – Soak bath salts: Got a bath? Pour in a handful, slide in, and pretend you're unreachable (because you are). No bath? A foot soak is heaven too—just make sure you’ve got a nice fluffy towel within reach before you dunk your tootsies. Nothing elegant (or WHS appropriate) about dripping across the tiles like a wet duck.
$16.95 – Polish exfoliating soap bar: Scrub away hair splinters, dead skin, and the stress of dealing with that dellusional client earlier in the week.
$19.95 – Restore hand cream: The name doesn’t lie. It’s rich, smells divine, and soaks in faster than gossip at a grooming comp. No greasiness, no stickiness—just silky hands that don’t scream “I’ve done 3 double coats today.”
$29 – A scented soy candle of your choosing: Light it. Breathe it in. Tell the laundry it can wait.
It’s not indulgence, sweetheart. It’s maintenance.
Be kind to yourself,
Barb-bye!
