Extreme Makeover

I have been growing out my hair since the first of January in anticipation of our trip to a tropical isle. When my desert dry hair gets anywhere near humidity, it sproings all over the place.  Humidity + my hair = a bad, bad hair day.

For our trip, I wanted to be able to pull it back into a ponytail.

My hair was long enough.  Barely.  It was quite short and stubby.  Quite.  Almost a whopping two inches.  But at least it wasn’t splaying out in an uncontrollable frizz.  Some people can do frizz and pull it off.  I can’t.

I really didn’t care what I looked like.  Ease was what I wanted.  The ponytail was wonderful.

I knew that when I got back, I would get my hair cut.

While we were at the airport in Fiji waiting to come home, I saw a lady with a cute, cute hair do.  I liked it so much I surreptitiously snapped a photo of her with my iPhone.  After an internal argybargy with myself (and a little bit with my husband), I even went over and chatted with her about it (much to my shy husband’s chagrin).

You’re going to do what?  Talk to a total stranger about how she curls her hair?

After I talk to her, she won’t be a total stranger.  We’ll be bosom friends.  Forever and ever.  Or at least until I come back and sit down by you . . .

When I got back home and went to my hair stylist, I pulled out my iPhone.  “Can you do this?”

“Sure.  Piece of cake.”

She texturized and trimmed.  She sheared and shaped.  She used thinning shears and a razor blade in addition to her scissors.  (I have a fine textured hair but it’s rather thick in back.) I came out a different woman (and 5 pounds lighter from having less hair . . .).

My husband’s balding pate looks like Rapunzel compared to me . . .

For those of you who know me, you might remember the haircut I had a couple of years ago when I broke my elbow (and smashed my face and broke my teeth in a nasty fall) and couldn’t fix my hair because of my broken elbow.  I hated that cut.  Positively hated it.  It was an old lady’s cut.  Old as in a style that something from my grandmother’s generation.

This cut?  Love it, love it, love it.  It’s more modern — at least that’s the delusional thought I tell myself.  It takes me about 5 minutes in the morning to fix instead of 30.

However, my ears and the back of my neck was very cold as I walked to work through the snowstorm this morning.  They haven’t been this exposed to the elements since the Jurassic era of  my life.  I think I need to keep wearing turtleneck shirts even though tomorrow will be April.

I also got some new eyeshadow.  Instead of the earth tones that I have been wearing for the last 15 years, I have Lavendar Meadow, Revlon’s Colorstay 12 Hour Eyeshadow.  Revlon claims the color won’t crease or smudge for up to twelve hours and that’s a pretty accurate statement.  My Lavendar Meadow stoically resists falling into the wrinkle crevices on my eyelids.  Sweet.

I’ve also started wearing my contacts again.  (I started because bifocal glasses while snorkeling just doesn’t cut it.)  And, I got a new pair of reading glasses.  (One old pair had broken and the other was too ghastly to be seen in public with.)

So, next time you’re in my neck of the woods, feel free to pop in to gawk celebrate my new fashion faze*.

By the way, my eye makeup is not quite as ornate as the picture above nor as colorful as the picture below.

*Faze – verb meaning to cause to be disturbed or disconcerted.  This word usage (faze) was intentional.  So, Dear Reader, don’t think that my grey matter is so discombobulated that I don’t have the ability to use the word ‘phase’ (which, in your misguided opinion, you think should have been the correct word).