Sometimes a little vanity is exactly what I need for a lift. This time, it started at the dentist.
I don't particularly enjoy going to the dentist, but I sure love how great my teeth look and feel when they're done cleaning. Thankfully I don't have any major teeth issues save for a few fillings from my early teens and a crown about 10 years ago. Pretty typical.
So after that recent checkup I went home, smiled in the mirror and then ran my fingers through my hair. Dark roots, split ends. It's time. Time for a color touch up and haircut!
I broke up with my hairdresser earlier this year. That's the only way I can describe it and while it's sad it's a story that needed to end. After over 20 years, everything went poof and fizzled out with unreturned phone calls when I needed to make an appointment. She left her salon many years ago - I'm guessing around 10 or 12 - and started going to her clients' houses to cut their hair, bringing all her equipment with her. This was fine by me as I'd known her a long time and trusted her, but it put a more intimate spin on our relationship into a sort of almost-friendship, even though we didn't seek out eachother's company otherwise if that makes sense. And no, it wasn't a true salon experience getting my hair cut sitting in my kitchen (she would use a spray bottle to wet my hair and dry it when she was done - no shampooing) but she hadn't raised her rates in years so I mentally justified it that way. And I got used to it.
But I got tired of hearing her drama every time she came over to cut my hair. From restraining orders with her boyfriend, losing her home to foreclosure, her father's death, bankruptcy, it was surreal. And it's too bad, because she's very talented and precise with her craft. Through late 80s big hair to an attempt at the Jennifer Aniston shag from the Friends years in the 90s, my experiment with bangs in late 2008 and everything onward, she did it all well.
Now I have H, a bubbly late 20-something who cracks me up. She's at the salon where I get my highlights done. And her chair is just a couple down from another H, my colorist of probably 20 years. You might think I'd be nervous having someone else cut my hair after so many years, but it actually was refreshing and fun!
H and H got me all cleaned up. Stress seems to manifest itself in my hair, and the greys are coming in fast. Wiry little fuckers. Looking back on the past year, stress has definitely been right at my head table, leering at me and poking, prodding...so I fight back with a great cut and a little more blonde!
Have I bitched about peach fuzz in here before? If I have, it's time to again. I get it waxed off my jawline area a few times a year and while my skin is a little irritated for a day it's so worth it. That awful, colorless fuzz is extremely aging so away with it! And once it's gone, makeup goes on so much more smoothly.
Why am I doing this? Well, a girl's gotta look her best, especially when it's time to pound the pavement again and job hunt. Let's face it - age discrimination is out there...although I'm told I look a lot younger than my 44 years. I'm proud of my experience and talents, for it's a story that's uniquely, wonderfully mine.
I worked at home on Friday. And when I got back upstairs after making a quick lunch I looked in the mirror again.
Help! I need eyebrows!
So I called my favorite spa and sure enough, they had a late afternoon slot open with M, my awesome aesthetician. Now, I'm no chicken when it comes to waxing. But the eyebrows are a different story. 'Cause I puff up quite a bit afterwards and it takes a couple days for the redness and puffiness to go away. Although my hair is naturally ashy brown (shot through with a few greys now), for some reason my eyebrows have always been super light. I swear by MAC Browset - it's like mascara for your brows and just adds a little nice color. But on a day like Friday, working at home, sans makeup, the brows are pretty much invisible.
NOW I feel better. Blonde, brows done, shiny teeth...somebody hire me, dammit!