Shopper Blog: Certified practitioner treats hair loss, other issues

POWELL

Certified practitioner treats hair loss, other issues

Al Lesar, Shopper News

This time, the “Fulton Flunkie” isn’t about to fail.

While Kelly Smith was attending Fulton High School, life’s circumstances got in the way. Her parents had divorced when she was young. During her junior year, there came a need for her to be at home. She was forced to leave school.

“I’d see this girl I went to school with every so often,” Smith said. “Whenever I saw her, she would call me the ‘Fulton Flunkie.’ She thought it was funny. It really did sting, but I never told her. She didn’t know my story. I was never one to hold grudges. I just prayed about it.”

Smith was involved in cosmetology during high school. As she was out on her own, while a single mother, she turned to cutting hair while earning her GED in 2002.

Focus on scalp health

About 25 years ago, when Smith was 21, she found out she had psoriasis on her scalp. The condition in which skin cells build up and form scales and itchy, dry patches confounded Smith. Here she was, a professional who worked on hair, who was reluctant to have her own scalp examined because of the way it appeared.

“Going through that made me think that there are others going through the same thing,” Smith said. “Between that and hair loss, there are so many things going on with the scalp. Nobody really is focusing on scalp health.”

That’s why, four years ago, Smith took the proper accreditation courses and continues to update her education while owning Salon Ceallach (113 E. Emory Road) in Powell.

Smith said she is certified by the U.S. Trichology Institute as well as the American Medical Association for scalp health.

She said it is a relatively new field and there are few head spas. Smith said she has had clients come from New York, Florida, Alabama and other long distances for her services.

“The head spa originated in Japan,” she said. “I wanted to put my own twist on it.”

Battling hair loss

When Smith does a treatment, it’s a very private session. There is a second chair in case clients want to come in a tandem, but there won’t be any strangers having treatments at the same time.

Besides her personal experience with psoriasis, Smith also faced hair loss when she experienced a reaction from a new chemical she was trying.

“I try everything before I use it on a client,” she said.

Smith said all her treatments for hair loss for men and women and other scalp conditions are topical, but she doesn’t underestimate the role nutrition plays in the restoration process.

“I’m a certified hair loss practitioner,” Smith said. “I take a more natural approach. I study the condition of the scalp and figure what can be done.”

She is continually looking for new and effective ways to help her clients.

“I remember those words ‘Fulton Flunkie’ and I use them for motivation,” said Smith, who added that the girl who coined that phrase is now a client. “It keeps me working so that I’ll never fail at anything again.”

Salon Ceallach is open Mondays by appointment only, Tuesdays through Fridays 9 a.m.-2 p.m. and Saturdays 8-4. For an appointment, text the information to: 865-385-5957.

OPINION

Everyone needs a guardrail friend

Leslie Snow, Shopper News

There’s a pattern in my friendship with Cheri, a recurring cycle that we both acknowledge. She calls me on the phone to invite me to an event, and I politely decline. That’s our pattern.

Occasionally, when she gets back from a gallery opening or a downtown matinee, I regret declining. I chastise myself for being too comfortable in my own backyard and remind myself I need to be more open to new things. But that’s the exception. Most days, I’m glad I decided to stay home.

But while Cheri happily bounces from breweries to concert halls, every once in a while, she lands on a dud. And on those days, when she tries something new that turns out to be terrible, she turns to me and says, “You’re so wise. How did you know it would be so awful?”

And I always reply, “Because it sounded awful when you asked me if I wanted to go. That’s why I said ‘no.’”

Then we both laugh.

We understand the different roles we play in each other’s lives. She is lighthearted, when I’m cynical. She is flighty when I’m serious. She’s open when I’m closed. And when it comes to attending a Monday night panel discussion on ancient religious philosophies, she’s the blind optimist and I’m her wise seer. I know when to say, “No, thank you.” I know Monday night is made for wearing comfy clothes and recovering from the start of the workweek, even if Cheri doesn’t.

I’m her guardrail friend. I’m the one she turns to when she knows she should say “no” to some off-the-wall adventure she’s scheming up. But until now, I’ve never had a guardrail friend myself. I’ve never had a wise Yoda in my life who scowls when I say, “I’m thinking about getting a puppy.”

But now I have Rena. She rolls her eyes at every bad idea I throw out. With her lips pursed and her eyebrows arched, she tells me what I really need to hear: “You have enough on your plate. I feel certain you will come to regret that decision later on.”

And after I get that knowing look, after I hear the sarcastic but loving edge in her voice, I relent. Because I know she’s right. Now is not the time to volunteer at an animal shelter. I don’t need to try my hand at landscaping or paint my office. It’s not the right time for taking on big projects. I just need to be. I need to let the dust of my busy life settle around me.

It’s good to have a friend like Rena. I hear her voice in my head when I feel the urge to become a Great Dane breeder or to host a big family reunion. I picture her arched brows when I consider taking a carpentry class or trying to repair my garage door by myself. Now, when those ideas pop into my head, I think, “W.W.R.D.” or “What would Rena do?”

And most of the time the answer is a deafening, “What’s wrong with you? Say no for God’s sake.” So that’s what I do.

I never expected I would need someone else’s words or wisdom to help me say “no.” That was always my job. I was the wise oracle. I played the part of Yoda, reminding Cheri “Miserable you will be at the lecture Monday night.” But now I have a Yoda of my own, one with a sharp tongue and sassy southern accent. And it turns out, she’s just what I needed.

Leslie Snow may be reached at snow column@aol.com

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This article originally appeared on Knoxville News Sentinel: Shopper News brings you the latest happenings in your community