Tuesday, September 15, 2009


I went and did it. The same thing I usually do when I am feeling down or out-of-sorts. The please make me feel better and pretty and thin thing that happens when I just can't pull myself up. I got my haircut. Not just any haircut, but a hairstyle. New for me. At a real salon. Where they have designers, instead of cosmetologists (did I spell that right?).
I told my designer who was new at this place to just do something. Use your artistic eye. Make me not look like a 50+ matron. Give me a little boho edge. But, whatever you do, don't let my ears stick out.
My ears, it seems, have a life of their own. Even though I stopped growing vertically around age 12, even though I could use a little more height, my ears continue to grow. It's a medical fact. Your ears and your nose continue to grow throughout your life. Mine have taken that to heart, at least in my mind. So I never like to have my whole ear showing.
So, my stylist first suggested a Chelsea cut, the kind where you put gel or mousse in your hair and the back sticks up ala "Jon and Kate". I said no, my daughters have already had that style and I don't want to compete. Then she suggested a short, modified bob, and since that's my husband name, I agreed. What could possibly go wrong with a bob?
As it turns out, nothing. It's OK for now. It is short and easy and updated. The only thing is, I am the only one that noticed my new, expensive hairstyle. I really don't look all that different. But I do feel a little more pampered, which I guess was the point of the whole thing.