Make Lemonade Slushies!!!
When I lost my hair up in D.C., I mourned it. I shaved off the parts that weren't gone, and kept my hair buzzed. I mourned my hair. Yes, I am absolutely aware of how shallow this sounds. It was just hair, right? Well, yes and no. It was my hair. It was also an outward symbol of a whole lot wrong in my life at that time. We started the process of fixing that after that Samhain. We changed our diet, I retired, and we moved to a place with a much less harsh climate.
My hair started growing back! I rejoiced! I got out the box with my hairy-dos in it and put it where I could go through it on occasion and see if my hair was ready to play with THIS pretty or THAT fun.
Then I discovered something: I left D.C. with an absolute inability to deal with ANY stress. Good didn't matter. The stress - as wonderful as it was - of moving into our forever home and getting the renovations done. There was also some unexpected stress in there. Hey change shakes things up and sometimes that shaking brings shit to the top of the tank. We're settling in, and cleaning up, and my little bald spots (and they were little this time) started sprouting little hairs.
It was time to get my hair cut. I've not been happy with my head lately, because of those bald spots. So, when I sat in that chair before Ruthie Arad (who is the best damned hair stylist in Gainesville, FL0 and I told her I was sick of this, I was bowing to reality and that she had a carte blanche.
No. Really.
We talked about what I meant by "carte blanche" and then she went to work on the cut. That was Wednesday. We talked color the whole time and I today I went and got my hair done.
This is the result. Life threw lemons at my head, and Ruthie helped me make lemonade slushies! She's got way better pics of my head than this one, but you can seriously get the idea here.
I love it. I've never done something like this, and I absolutely love it.
When I lost my hair up in D.C., I mourned it. I shaved off the parts that weren't gone, and kept my hair buzzed. I mourned my hair. Yes, I am absolutely aware of how shallow this sounds. It was just hair, right? Well, yes and no. It was my hair. It was also an outward symbol of a whole lot wrong in my life at that time. We started the process of fixing that after that Samhain. We changed our diet, I retired, and we moved to a place with a much less harsh climate.
My hair started growing back! I rejoiced! I got out the box with my hairy-dos in it and put it where I could go through it on occasion and see if my hair was ready to play with THIS pretty or THAT fun.
Then I discovered something: I left D.C. with an absolute inability to deal with ANY stress. Good didn't matter. The stress - as wonderful as it was - of moving into our forever home and getting the renovations done. There was also some unexpected stress in there. Hey change shakes things up and sometimes that shaking brings shit to the top of the tank. We're settling in, and cleaning up, and my little bald spots (and they were little this time) started sprouting little hairs.
It was time to get my hair cut. I've not been happy with my head lately, because of those bald spots. So, when I sat in that chair before Ruthie Arad (who is the best damned hair stylist in Gainesville, FL0 and I told her I was sick of this, I was bowing to reality and that she had a carte blanche.
No. Really.
We talked about what I meant by "carte blanche" and then she went to work on the cut. That was Wednesday. We talked color the whole time and I today I went and got my hair done.
This is the result. Life threw lemons at my head, and Ruthie helped me make lemonade slushies! She's got way better pics of my head than this one, but you can seriously get the idea here.
I love it. I've never done something like this, and I absolutely love it.
