Archive for February 21st, 2008

So yesterday was a Down Day.  We all have those days.  (And if you want to try and tell me you don’t have days like that I will have to just tell you that You Lie.) 

I’ve been feeling rather beat up as of late, ganged up on and picked on and generally unsure of myself.  It’s a combination of things — major home repairs with no funding in sight, all the problems with Spawn’s behavior and my inability to get it diagnosed in a timely manner, uncertainty with my husband’s job, serious and deeply personal spiritual wrestling, a feeling that there are some things I will never get accomplished in my life — that have put a hole in my boat.  I’ve found myself oversensitive to what would ordinarily be innocuous comments, which is not like me by, like, a mile.  I’m defensive and on the offensive and in general not someone you’d want to play with right now. 

So yesterday, with all of this stuff swirling around in my brain, I zipped up my coat, tucked my chin into my scarf, and set off for the salon.  I’ve been letting my hair grow out for about three months now (an exercise in patience if there ever was one) and have been trying to find a new hairstyle.  I printed off the hairstyle I thought I wanted to attempt and took it to my stylist, whom I have been fortunate enough to have been with for better than 15 years.  She knows my hair.  She knows me.  And believe me, I need that when it comes to my hair, because I want my hair to be easy.  And she knows how incredibly picky I can be about my hair and how I want it to be a five-minute job rather than a 30-minute job every day. 

I showed her the picture of the hair I wanted and lo and behold, I picked a style that should be easy to deal with.  And completely opposite of what I’ve been doing all these years, which is to say, every hair in place.

Turning 40 will cause a woman to rethink her hair.  It’s true. 

So she gave me the haircut I chose.  And…

So far I like it.  At first I worried that it made me look a little too much like my mother, which is what I am desperately trying to move away from.  It’s bad enough that I open my mouth nowadays and her voice comes out of it.  So I asked my best friend and she said no, I don’t look like my mother even though I sound a hell of a lot like her.  Which is, whew, a relief. 

My husband?  Still has not noticed. 

Funny thing:  Tuesday I had a meeting at church, and during our discussion about Very Serious Things, I found myself looking at the hair of the other women in my meeting and assessing whether or not I wanted my hair like that.  Clearly I am out of my tree.  Sometimes I picture God sighing and shaking his head over me and what goes on in my brain. 

Funny thing #2:  After I left the salon with my new hair, I felt about 10 pounds lighter.  I actually felt so much less beat up just because I had a new haircut.  How crazy is that? 

Ok, enough nattering.  You want to see the hair?  Here ’tis: 


Except it’s not quite as long, it’s not red, and I’m not Reba McEntire. 

Although I’m rethinking the red part.  I’ve never colored my hair in my life, but hell, now that I’m 40 I just might start. 

— Mox

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