Deja vu all over again

On Monday I got a wild hair that I needed to cut my hair off immediately.

I've had it long forever and while I liked the length, it was driving me crazy.  I've always had thick, shiny, healthy hair, and suddenly I was hyper aware that, whether because of age or living in a dry climate or coloring my hair or whatever, the ends were getting damaged and frizzed out and it bugged me.  So I did some internet research on the type of cut that I wanted, had an online consult with my friends, and decided to get it chopped.

I have no patience when it comes to decisions like that.  Once I've made it, I want to act right away. And in the past, I would have called my hair salon immediately and made an appointment with the next available person and cut it off as soon as possible.

But now I try to act like some semblance of a grown-up woman, so I have a dedicated stylist person (Candace) who I go to every time, who knows me and knows my hair and is familiar with its cowlicks and curls and texture and everything else.  She's the mom of one of Josie's friends from school and she's young and hip and effortlessly cool, with her gorgeous blonde hair streaked with pink and purple.  But I couldn't get an appointment with her until Thursday, so it was two days of agonizing and getting nervous and feeling impatient.

First world problems, I know.

The big day came and I headed over there during my lunch hour. Candace and I confabbed and she snipped here and there and we would make adjustments and confab some more and she would cut a little shorter here and shape the pieces around my face and I would say "maybe a little more off there" and eventually we got it to where we both said, "that's it. We're there. It's perfect."

I love it.  It's bouncy and cute and easy to take care of and frames my face nicely. My hair looks healthy and shiny again, rather than frizzed out and tired.

I've got a couple of mediocre selfies that don't really do it justice, but here's what it looks like:

Just after leaving the salon. A bit windy.

Mirror selfie. Meh.

Now I need to learn how to take care of it - how to do it in the morning, whether there are certain products to use, that kind of thing.

I got some smoothing cream that's supposed to work really well at giving it some gloss and get rid of flyaways.  I had it in my purse at work and wanted to take it to the restroom to use it.  I don't usually take my purse in with me to the bathroom.  I've actually always thought it's kind of weird when women do that, unless they're in a restaurant and are worried about their bag being swiped.  But at work, what's in there that you need?  A tampon? Just carry it in your hand, or tuck it up your sleeve or something.  Who cares?

I have no idea why this bothers me.

In any event, with the hair smoothing stuff I ended up putting it in my purse and taking it with me. I was afraid if anyone saw me they would think I was taking a giant pink dildo to the bathroom.

More than a little phallic, no?

Later that night, I was getting ready to wash my face before getting into bed and needed a headband to hold my hair back so it wouldn't get wet.  Before cutting it, I used to just put it back in a ponytail, but it's too short for that now.  I looked in a bunch of different places but couldn't find any headbands.

As I rifled through one of my drawers, it occurred to me that I could do what I did when I was in the extreme throes of pregnancy brain and use a pair of thong underwear.  But the thought of having to explain to my children why I had underwear wrapped around my head was enough of a deterrent that I kept looking until I found a sash I could use.

In other words, in spite of appearances to the contrary, my standards have actually gone up a little bit.