When you have a friend kind enough to tell you there’s something stuck in your teeth, you are grateful.
When you have a friend who on a spontaneous lunch date listens to your whining about not going on your planned trip to Wisconsin, and wondering what to do with the time now available…. and before you can even take a breath for yet another droning….
“Get a hair cut.”
I’ve been growing out a pixie cut. First, as a lesson to my daughter that hair always grows back. She’s not buying it – loves her hair long enough to sit on. Then as a dare – how long can I let it grow before I’m completely disgusted. Mostly because pixie maintenance had to move off the budget.
Well, my friend saved me an impending episode of morning revulsion. I was happy to make an appointment with the stylist I like so much, I’ll follow her to any salon. She practices reflective listening, and has always managed to style my hair in to a flattering adaptation of what I say to what actually fits my face. And she doesn’t try to get me to color my hair. She actually styles the gray highlights as a face framing feature.
The stylist took this picture. I can see how the back of my head has more grays than I’ve seen before. I like how evenly they are coming in. But with hair color turning as I age, I shouldn’t let myself go without some grooming for so long. Today I went from scraggly mess, to a bob.
Guess this means tomorrow I drink water at the office out of a fancier glass.
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Note: Let me know if you’d like the name of my stylist. She’s amazing.