While strolling the other day, it occurred to me what I’d do if I had play money.
I’d upgrade from cheap box red wine to a nice bottled merlot have the occasional meal out above a bag of McDonald’s fries find a skilled hairstylist to give me a flattering cut I can live with.
You know, the sort who studies your facial features and bone structure and type of hair then arrives at a style that really works.
The illuminations were pouring in on that walk 'cause it also occurred to me that I've never had girly things like a manicure, pedicure or a facial, neither a special occasion / updo, hair coloring, perm or a back "facial," which from all accounts is fantastic.
Instead, I’ve lived my life pretty much as a tomboy monkey hanging upside down from the tree branches.
Tuesday’s my interview and I want to look good. I'm due for a cut anyhow. The hair's feeling long, straggly and blah and at that annoying point where either you've gotta bear it through if trying to grow it long or have it chopped.
I’m in a rut. For the past few years I’ve kept it more or less a longish bob because of the climate. It’s cool or cold and gray most of the year so the priority's been maintaining a length that keeps the neck warm. My hair's wavy, thick and bulky, perfect for Nordic climes. In the desert, it's sheer torture but fortunately those days appear behind me.
Through the years, I’ve had my hair in all styles, manner and lengths, from waist length when I was a kid to a revised Sinead O’Connor look, with razor and shaving cream, a self-created style I named the artist-monk cut. It's the one that most captured the real me and the one to which I eventually see myself returning when the time's right and now's not it.
I've scheduled an appointment tomorrow at the beauty school. Experience has taught me to plan nothing around it because they're students and slow and must consult with a supervisor along the way, so it takes a couple hours just for a shampoo (!) and a cut. I look at it as a couple hours of relaxation and luxury at a price I can afford.
In preparation I've been browsing styles online. I'm not so foolish as to think I can pull of a Jennifer Aniston (not that I would with that type hair ) or styles that I like, like this one, that would look utterly ridiculous and nothing like this were I to try:
I like this one. Add wave, curls and bulk and it's pretty much how my hair's been:
And I like this:
Matter of fact, it's the style I'm contemplating resurrecting but with the hair pushed from the face (hair hanging in the face drives me nuts).
So today I'm at the cafe and notice one barista's hair, a pixie that's quite flattering.
So I comment to my barista (whom I see regularly): "Tomorrow I'm gettin' a hair cut. I need a change. And I really like hers {pointing} and am thinking of going that way. Whaddya think?"
The barista studies my hair, face and says: "It'd look really good on you. You've got the right bone structure. And I'm not just saying that. Not everyone could carry off a pixie but you could."
Evidently I don't need to pay an expensive haircutter for styling advice after all.
I really think I'm gonna go for it! I need a change. Plus I can't shake the words, spoken oh so many moons ago, of one of my dearest longtime friends who's seen more styles than anyone: "I like the boy's cut best."
Or. Or I might opt for something else altogether should the reporter position not pan out and I find myself applying down at the tattoo shop:
Barefoot Blogger 