Yesterday I woke up with a crick in my neck (truth be told I had one before I went to bed and was so wound up I could barely turn to the right, but panic attacks aside...) feeling like it was the day of a big exam. Thankfully I'm way out of University, but clearly my body remembers the terror/exhilaration just as though it was yesterday. My appointment was for 1pm. Picture it: me breaking out in a sweat and fanning the underarms at top speed. Suddenly the phone rings: appointment pushed back to 1:30. Whew! Perspiration instantly subsides. Imagine that. Shortly thereafter phone rings again: appointment pushed back to 2:00. I'm feeling like going outside for a stroll. What am I thinking?!?
Next thing you know it's go time. I hop in the car and head south. Wait a second--why is everyone stopping? Why am I sitting here, on PCH in the middle of nowhere, at 1:35pm?? What's that? A commercial being filmed. Oh hell no. Not today. Yes today. Cut to 15 minutes later and I'm now jammed on another part of the highway for 'road construction' aka a bunch of guys standing around twiddling their thumbs all day long while three lanes go down to one for what seems like eternity. I call the salon, 'I could be 10 minutes late. I'm jammed!' Attitude on the other end. Yes. I've been delayed an hour and now I get attitude. I don't care. I want my hair cut damn you!!
Five minutes late I run in having dropped only one eff bomb on the valet who announces, at the valet podium stand thing, that he's not taking anymore cars. Then what the hell are you standing there for?? Wheeling through the parking lot like a crazy bird I find a spot, jump out and scream to the 16 year old valet kid: 'Sorry for the eff bomb, buddy. I'm running late!' He laughs. Thank God for the youth.
Two hours later I emerge, triumphantly. The Hair Genius aka Dusty Simington has worked his magic. I'm knot free AND he wanted to keep the length. This is the sound of elation. Exhilaration. My hair swinging in the wind. Can you hear it?
All I had was my phone to take pictures, but here it is in all its glory.
3.5 inches later I'm still standing.
Length intact, I can carry onward to a celebratory cocktail.
Speaking of which are we done yet?
Yes. We are. I can now look forward to haircuts again.
Seeing as I sucked it on the blog posts this week here's a full outfit shot.
I went in prepared: expressing my inner hippie and wrapped in fringe.
Security blanket.
Seriously though, not since my Canadian hair stylist (who I've seen for 20 years and still see when I go home) have I been so happy with my hair, the cut and the person who cut it. I have fine hair but a lot of it, so most people can't understand how to cut and thin it out. And once you've had a really good precision cut, anything less is just depressing (think dog ears). Dusty killed it. He's got a great eye, has cut hair for years and is hilarious. I'd trust him to take it shorter--and that says a lot for someone who lost almost all her hair 8 years ago and has painstakingly grown it back. Thanks for all your notes of encouragement on the hair front. I was busting up at the tweets and facebook messages--it's a bird family affair!
Have a great weekend everyone!
