I have become reacquainted with my big round boar’s hair brush, high-end hair-fluffing lotion and blow dryer. S. my personal stylist and confidant created this new flippy style for my usually limp hair. She’s a genius. I look 10 years younger and my ears even look smaller ― it’s magic.
It looked fantastic when I left the salon and it still looks pretty good under my care.
But I’m lazy (and not a morning person) and now I have to get up 20 minutes early to whip it into shape. I’ve been doing it faithfully as it really does look fabulous ― it’s worth the effort.
Sometimes I think that all this this fuss about hair is so draining. Why must I have fun, flippy hair? Why do I need highlights and (I think) lowlights? Why can’t I just leave the house without blow drying?
These thoughts don’t last long. As soon as I see a gray hair or a limp lock I run to the magician with many types of scissors. And if I do sleep in and neglect my hair (which used to happen more often before the “flip of many minutes” as I have taken to calling it) I feel fretful about it all day.
Life is too short to fret about hair ― I’ve got eyebrows that need attention.