Got my haircut yesterday. It’s been so long since I got my hair professionally cut I was actually kind of nervous about it. Especially seeing as it was someone new doing the cutting. There’s a woman that I, my mom and my sister have been using for over 20 years, but it’s kind of hard to get an appointment with her. She’s really good, but unless you keep your appointment chain going, it takes six weeks to get in to see her. When I decide my hair needs cutting, I want it done now. And if I can’t find someone else to do it, I’ll do it myself.
Now I know why I don’t like getting my hair cut. It’s not that he didn’t do a good job or that I don’t like the cut, but he kept trying to ‘fix’ my hair and I ended up with all over curly and so full of product it wouldn’t have moved in a hurricane. I’ve never really liked ‘helmet hair’ that used to be popular. Women would go to the hairdresser once a week and have it done and in between it was shellacked into immobility. By the time he was done tweaking I was ready to run out of his shop.
Today it’s been fun watching people notice something different, but not know what it is. When you’re a woman over forty, you’re invisible. No one pays any attention to your exterior. Almost no one in the office could tell what the difference was. They all had that deer in the headlights look. Then, once they figured it out, they were afraid to say anything for fear I’d had it done last week.
Who knew having my hair cut could provide so much amusement.