Beauty Shop Blues

There is not much that scares me as much as a hair cut appointment.

Give me a trip to the dentist and I'm fine. Give me a trip to the doctor and I'll do it without breaking a sweat.

Make me an appointment at a beauty shop for a hair cut and I get high anxiety.

The problem is that if my hair is cut wrong, it's just like having to wear that ugly yellow and lime green polka dot dress that Aunt Berta gave you 20 years ago. You have to wear that ugly dress day and night for at least two months. It wasn't cute 20 years ago and it's even worse now.

I wear my hair short. It could even be called "boy short" or a "crew cut". I had my hair cut one time and I walked out looking like a washed-up country western singer with whoop dee doo's in her hair. I had curls and waves everyplace. I am not a curls and waves kind of woman. (Nor can I carry a tune for that matter.)

I have naturally very straight hair. A very sweet hairdresser convinced me that my hair would look great with a 'body wave'. Uh huh. My hair looked just like Harpo Marx for two months after that one.

Another time, I had a hairdresser who cut a pie wedge shape into the top of my hair. Now I like a piece of pie just as much as the next girl, but not on top of my head. The broad side of the pie was a bangs type thing in front. I was mystified and horrified in equal measures. I had to get used to wearing a baseball cap whenever I walked out of the house for over a month.

My appointment on Tuesday was pretty drama free. My hair looks great. Okay, not great, but short just like I wanted it.