Lemonade
This week I am making lemonade. Figuratively, at least. Over the weekend I finally stopped procrastinating and went to get a much-needed haircut. Let me tell you about my seeminly incessant issues with getting a good haircut; I get it that I don't have the easiest cut, and inverted bob with an undercut, but this cut has gained popularity recently and even if it hadn't, a bob is a classical cut that any stylist worth their salt should be able to make happen. I willl further grant that I usually put it off so long that I just end up going to a place that takes walk-ins. Most places do take walk-ins. You know who doesn't take walk-ins? Places that know what they're doing.
So I go to this place in an old mall, I've been there before and gotten a great cut. It's a little pricier but I'm willing to pay it for a good cut. I get another errand done while waiting for my turn, then as soon as I get back to the shop a man takes me back to start my shampoo. He barely speaks and seems irritated or upset about something. I try to make small talk, which he ignores and argues with a coworker who thinks he inappropriately booked appointments. I feel a little stressed out just getting my shampoo done, but figure, the last few times they have not cut it as short as I want and it ends up feeling heavy and sloppy, so anything has to be better. I show him the picture I've taken from Pinterest of the exact haircut I want, which is pretty close to what I've already been wearing, just a little shorter on the sides.
Cute, right? I always get a ton of compliments on my cut. Let me tell you, this man took out all his frustration on my head! I've never had a comb hurt me like that, as he carelessly slammed it into my head again and again. Then the scissors. Oh lord, the only word I have for what he did to me was "hacking". He hacked the $#*t out of my hair, making short, choppy layers around my face and wierd uneven cuts to the back. Thank all that is holy he at least did the shaved part with some control! By the time this man was done assulting my head, I barely had any hair left on one side. He didn't ask if I wanted assymetry (I did not) or which side I part my hair to (he got it wrong and now I have go against the way my hair is trained and try to get the longer hair and the choppy short face layers to stay pinned down on the opposite side, which happens to be the side I habitually use for the phone at work). I whined to my husband over the weekend, that it was a total butch cut and I felt really UNfeminine. As the weekend drew closer to the end I wondered if calling in sick for bad hair was a legit excuse. But I mananged to go to work and suck it up. I forced my hair to the "wrong side" and spiked it up in the back and gave it one little curl in just the right spot and I think it looks kind of cute anyway. I am still going to let his supervisor know because if I were less patient and understanding, someone would have gotten totally chewed out already.
So, my lemoade is that. There are so many worse things in life than a bad haircut. I am just really happy I have really cute glasses to make up for it. And, luckily my hair grows pretty fast. When I was thinking about how the last time someone cut layers by my face (which always ends up sticking out funny because of my glasses) it took more than a year for it to grow back out to the point where they blended into the cut how I wanted, I was really upset, but I reminded myself that there were many points along the way where I made it work and it still looked cute enough. It's not cancer. It's not a horrible car accident. It's not a loved one being sick, it's freaking hair! I still make it look pretty OK, and that is my lemonade.
This month's ovulation is tougher than usual, making me have cravings and draining me of energy. The Butterfinger mini's I got for my kids are talking to me from the high shelf in the cupboard, but I know I am only listening because they are there, not because I truly want them. The desire for a Butterfinger did not come on it's own, but because it was in the house. Any other sweet treat would have had the same pull. I haven't had any and don't plan to, but I noticed the cravings more, and it's been a while since I've had to deal with it. I kept myself busy, and when I got hungry I munched on peanuts or nut butters, the extra fat helps me feel satisfied when I'm wanting sugars.
So that is my brief, not-very-weight-related post.
So I go to this place in an old mall, I've been there before and gotten a great cut. It's a little pricier but I'm willing to pay it for a good cut. I get another errand done while waiting for my turn, then as soon as I get back to the shop a man takes me back to start my shampoo. He barely speaks and seems irritated or upset about something. I try to make small talk, which he ignores and argues with a coworker who thinks he inappropriately booked appointments. I feel a little stressed out just getting my shampoo done, but figure, the last few times they have not cut it as short as I want and it ends up feeling heavy and sloppy, so anything has to be better. I show him the picture I've taken from Pinterest of the exact haircut I want, which is pretty close to what I've already been wearing, just a little shorter on the sides.
So, my lemoade is that. There are so many worse things in life than a bad haircut. I am just really happy I have really cute glasses to make up for it. And, luckily my hair grows pretty fast. When I was thinking about how the last time someone cut layers by my face (which always ends up sticking out funny because of my glasses) it took more than a year for it to grow back out to the point where they blended into the cut how I wanted, I was really upset, but I reminded myself that there were many points along the way where I made it work and it still looked cute enough. It's not cancer. It's not a horrible car accident. It's not a loved one being sick, it's freaking hair! I still make it look pretty OK, and that is my lemonade.
This month's ovulation is tougher than usual, making me have cravings and draining me of energy. The Butterfinger mini's I got for my kids are talking to me from the high shelf in the cupboard, but I know I am only listening because they are there, not because I truly want them. The desire for a Butterfinger did not come on it's own, but because it was in the house. Any other sweet treat would have had the same pull. I haven't had any and don't plan to, but I noticed the cravings more, and it's been a while since I've had to deal with it. I kept myself busy, and when I got hungry I munched on peanuts or nut butters, the extra fat helps me feel satisfied when I'm wanting sugars.
So that is my brief, not-very-weight-related post.
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