A couple weeks ago I made a last minute call to schedule a hair appointment. My rocking stylist, Deby was fully booked. My hair, which I lovingly refer to as horsehair or wire, grows like a weed. It had been far too long since my last cut. I did not want to go with anyone else so I called back later and scheduled my overdue appointment for this past Saturday.
When I woke up to another blizzard, I sat on the edge of my seat waiting for the phone to ring. It did. My telepathy was in overdrive. I was faced with the dilemma to cancel or switch stylists. The decision was made even more difficult knowing that I wanted a major change and was petrified to let the scissors fall where they may. However if I put it off any longer there was a good chance that I'd be hacking it off myself. My hair went below my bra strap and every time I leaned back in my chair I felt the pull of my heavy mane.
They booked me in with a stylist who I have used before. I nervously drove through the fluffy white falling snow and searched for a spot to park between the buried cars. In my purse I carried a photo that I was hoping would resemble my new hair.
At the salon I discovered that my backup stylist was overbooked. A girl that I had never seen before was waiting for me. Oh well, hair grows back. It couldn't possibly turn out as bad as Ruth's friend right? Yah that was a good post to read before this turn of events.
I walked into the salon with my freshly washed, perfected split end frizz.
I emerged with my new sassy, scrunched curls. What freedom! I want to shake my head like a shampoo commercial.
Disaster avoided! I even managed to make it home through the horrible weather without getting the car stuck.
On a side note, I seem to be missing most of my anniversaries. For example thirteen posts ago I hit the 300 mark. Four days ago this blog was officially two years old. In two days from now, I leave all this snow for a warmer cowboy climate. Today however I've spun around the sun 37 times. I think that calls for some spicy tuna rolls!