A Word About Hair

I got my hair cut last night. I wasn't sure I was going to talk about it because I get my hair cut once a month and rarely does it warrant conversation. But this was a little bit different. I walked out of the salon feeling...special. Bouncy. Cha-cha, even. Still...I was nervous about saying anything. You know how sometimes you get a cut, and the stylist blows it dry and makes it look "just so" and then you get home and never again can you recreate that look? Maybe it's still cute, but it's not "just so" and you start to question if there's some magic powder in the gel in the salon, or whether your stylist has made some deal with the devil to get you to fork over $50 for cutting your hair and the package deal includes making your hair look more fabulous than you can ever make it look with your mortal hands. Yeah, so I didn't want to jinx it.

But while we're on the subject, a related item about my stylist: In short, I kind of love her. In fact, I would totally have her babies if she wasn't completely capable of doing so on her own. (Well, not "on her OWN"...I mean, biology still works the same way for her, even if she HAS made a deal with the devil...but, you know what I mean.) I used to be a Great Clips kind of girl, mostly because I was cheap, but in part because I hadn't really found anybody who inspired me to pay more than $20 for a haircut. But then I met my stylist and not only is she incredibly fun and hilarious, she knows hair. I can walk in and tell her I'm having angst about my hair and say "Do something" and she does. And it's always fabulous.

Even so, I haven't been excited about my hair lately. I've always had short hair, but I was wanting something different, so I grew it out a bit. It was a little longer than chin length, and cute, of course, but something still wasn't quite right. And every month I'd go back to the salon and say "Do something" and she would, bless her, but something still wasn't quite right. And then, last night, it was perfect. So, you know, YAY! and all, but she always makes me look good in the salon, and in the back of my mind, I was still thinking that I was going to find some way to make it look not as YAY! when it was just me and the blow drier.

BUT! Miracle of miracles, people, she gave me the perfect cut. Not even I could mess it up when I went to style it today. It's cute and sleek and modern and takes very little maintenance. It looks hot. I look hot. I'm practically a MILF, (and you must know how strongly I feel about the hotness of this haircut if I'm willing to employ that overused and vaguely disgusting term for emphasis)...and that is exactly why I'm not posting a picture of myself with said hot haircut. I would hate to have to turn you down when you show up at my door, pledging your devotion, because you are under the spell of the hotness. I am not good in pressure situations, and I don't know how well I'd be able to handle the "letting you down easy" portion of the program. But don't worry, we can still be friends.