To paraphrase a popular children's book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned at the Beauty Shop." It's true. Most of the nitty-gritty parts of my life have been cussed and dis-cussed at one time or another while I sat in a swivel chair with a plastic cape around my neck, the person behind me wielding scissors.

And better still, most of the nittygritty parts of others' lives have been discussed there, too. More informative than the Chronicle or even the Lincoln Journal, the local beauty shop is where we go to look better, feel better, and share in polite conversation about our friends' troubled marriages, bad investments, and bratty kids.

To look better we perm, pat, pouf, and preen, on a regular basis, until we're certain we have improved on our appearance, even just a little bit. (My mother has had a "standing" appointment for years at the hairdressers and I've always wondered why, in light of her faithful patronage, she is not allowed to sit.)

The beauty shop is where one goes to, in fact, let one's hair down, and where one can catch up on all the news, or more to the point, all the gossip, in town. And face it; gossip contains valuable information about the rights and wrongs of our society, and, according to Psychology Today magazine, "actually helps us cope with our own difficult situations."

Oh sure, we say we disapprove of gossip but consider what Joseph Conrad said, "Gossip is what no one claims to like-but everyone enjoys." We all do it. It just scares us because we know that information, true or not, can be sometimes be used against us.

Still, and I truly believe this; women were created to talk... a lot. And though women probably do gossip more than men, women have broader social circles than men do. Women have more confidantes, more friends, and more casual acquaintances with whom to "share."

The beauty shop is for women what the locker room is for men; a place where we can say most anything without fear of repercussion...at least not while we're in the room. We can be honest with our hairdresser and she/ he with us. Besides, who's going to take seriously someone whose head is covered in little tin foil twist-ties?

Women just love to talk. Add that to a warm shampoo and a good head massage, and we'll spill our guts about most anything. Hairdressers, like bartenders, are expected to lend a sympathetic ear as needed and often our problems are solved with a good cry, a hearty laugh, and a simple shampoo and set.

One Thursday morning a regular customer at the shop I use, came in, sat down, flung the cape around her neck, then asked the beautician, "Okay, where did we leave off last week?" It's like scheduled therapy, for a few bucks and a can of hair spray.

I find only one flaw in this scenario. Hair dryers that make so much noise I can't hear what the other victim...err...customers are saying. And hey, what's the deal with "permanents?" I've never seen one that was. Have you?

Because I'm too cheap, I don't visit my hairdresser nearly as often as I should. She tells me when I'm overdue for a root job and I trust her. I may not heed her advice, but I trust her. She knows a lot of my deepest secrets and I know a lot of hers. That's the way it should be. Blackmail made easy.

In the movie Steel Magnolias, when the young beautician Annelle was instructed to refrain from sharing her personal problems at work she replied, "I won't ever let my past get in the way of doing good hair." Smart girl.

Lord knows, if there's anything a small town woman needs, aside from a Macys card, thick skin and a short memory, it's good hair.

Now go get yours done, dear hearts. You deserve it. Grab a cup of coffee, call up your friends and find out all the latest news. Then throw caution to the wind, make an appointment, and remember the words of Oscar Wilde, "There is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."

'Til next time, dear hearts, hair's to you!