I'm lucky enough to have two careers that I love, but because both writing and medicine are exacting professions, sometimes it's hard to focus on anything but those two things. Other parts of life tend to fall by the wayside...like raking the leaves in my yard (thank goodness I have big privacy fences or my neighbors would be appalled!). So the subject of my hair came up recently. I have wavy hair that's quite prone to Helter Skelter moments. My hair is, in fact, an excellent example of the scientific principle that things tend toward entropy.
Anyway, a few weeks back, I noticed that I'd been wearing headbands almost daily. I thought in exasperation: Who am I? Alice about to enter Wonderland? (Sighing heavily.) I am not a little girl. Not for a long time. And call me crazy, but I'm of the opinion that headbanded hair isn't really a look that a grown woman should sport much outside her own castle, er townhouse.
So I made the appointment with a certain amount of trepidation. When it comes to styles, my hair tends to be of the mindset: When in doubt, mutiny. So often after a drastic haircut, it's disaster, followed by regret, followed by another haircut to salvage things...
Enter Shayla, a gorgeous hairdresser at an upscale salon. I told her I was cutting my hair off and she was so enthusiastic about the prospect that I couldn't help but be enthusiastic along with her. Originally we were going for shoulder-length, but I did warn her about the curl phenomenon. Shorter = curlier = shorter than intended by the haircut.
At one point she asked, "What do you put on your hair to make it curly?" My dry response, "Water." And the strands rose up in rebellion, as they are prone to do. And the voice in my head was like...this is going to end badly. Most people can't do jaw-length, least of all you.
But it turns out Shayla is to hair what Tammy Jo is to pastries. Cut and snip, and shape and snip, and chat and snip, and miraculously, I got a short haircut that is fabulous. It loops and swoops and shimmies and bobs with such attitude. For once, my head owns its curls and cowlicks without a post-shower wrestling match with exasperated me.
So in the middle of July, I'm giving the kind of thanks that's usually reserved for a late November around-the-turkey-dominated-table toast:
Here's to everyone who is talented at what she does!
P.S. By the way, Shayla loves paranormal fiction, which does, in fact, make her the most awesome hairdresser since Johnny Nguyen. So today I dropped off a couple of Southern Witch books, in addition to giving her a sneak peek at an excerpt of the young adult paranormal I'm thinking of debuting on my website. After all, one wonderful creative turn deserves another, right?