I finally did something I've been afraid to do since the move.
Something so frightening and intimidating that I've put it off.
I got my haircut.
By a new person.
Not my "old hair person" who I knew for over 15 years.
Trish, if you are reading this, I did it, but there wasn't the usual chit-chat, laughing, sometimes crying.
Who cries with their hairdresser?
To have such problems - I feel very shallow that I considered this an obstacle.
That I stalked a couple of shops and looked them up on Yelp!, as if this was a life and death matter.
Even after watching two very good, beautiful friends lose their hair to chemo with grace, humor and dignity,
I still made this a big deal in my mind.
(Miss you ladies!)
Got up today and just went!
Nice lady welcomed me and started cutting and buzzing after a few questions.
Me, no glasses at her total mercy, picturing this:
I should be so lucky to look like Anne (with an "e") Hathaway!
She looks great no matter what!
I texted a couple of friends for support.
They understood my shallow vanity.
Cutting, buzzing, blowing, fluffing ended.
Glasses put back on.
20 minutes! That's all it took!
That's because we weren't talking like Trish and I did.
New lady, gave me some tips to make my hair not lie flat in no-humidity.
It didn't look bad!
It feels great!
Pretty short, but not Les Mis short!
Kind of Nurse Jackie short, but again, I'm no Edie Falco!
But I'm me!
I even took a picture for the curious:
Next time: cut and color!
I think I will go back since we "know" each other now.
But, Trish, I miss you!