Finding a good hair stylist is as difficult as finding a good husband, exactly why I went about eight months without a hair cut. Then my mother, feeling sorry for my pathetic mop, gave me a give certificate for a conditioning treatment.
I’m a lot like the Sahara Dessert. I have a very dry, crackling surface that expands with each winter.
Not. a. good. thing.
I didn’t want to waste good conditioner on hair so dead it wouldn’t be revived in the second resurrection, so I got a hair cut. First.
In an effort to help ensure the success of the pruning process, I went through agonizing task of blow-drying my not so golden, but kinda gray locks. Suddenly a fantastic idea sailed through one ear and lodged itself in the right front lobe of my brain.
I can take before and after pictures.
Because what woman does not enjoy when some celebrity stylist walks the streets in search of a poor, middle-aged, haggish soul?
The transformation makes hearts sore with the hope that help can be had
for the right price.
I wanted to give you hope my friends.
The before photos – splendid.
I just scrubbed my face with apricot sand, then moisturized. What better time to take a photo?
The before shot – scrubbed raw, shiny, exposed, lifeless, dull.
I’ve totally found my niche!
I should become a ‘before shot’ model. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?
I floated in to my appointment, blown by the hot air of hope; however, my stylist quickly sliced through my hope with her scissors, sharpened to devastate and decimate.
Snip! Snip. Snip!
I sat looking into the mirror with a cape draped over my shoulders and pile of hair in my lap.
All I thought was, Now how am I going to get a good after picture?
Too often my thoughts show up in my face. I knew my stylist noticed, because she said, “Don’t worry! It will be better after the conditioning treatment.”
Apparently I forgot the lesson of the spiked bangs on Easter. You can read about that cut HERE.
The conditioner was fabulous. Thanks mom! Imagine the Sarah Dessert experiencing a monsoon. That’s how my hair felt, and I had no umbrella.
Thankfully I have somewhat curly hair, so I can mask a bad cut. I think I’ll be wearing my mask for another eight months, give or take a tendril.
Oddly enough I really like how this stylist cuts my mother’s hair. I guess next time I need a hair cut, I’ll just borrow my mother’s head.
I know, I know. You want pictures.
Celebrity stylist, my schedule is flexible. Anytime you need a
sucker volunteer to be made over, I am your girl.
When I saw this picture, I realized how much I look like my brother. Except I have hair.
What can I say? This is as good as it’s gonna get my friends.
Now forget the hair. I want to show proof that my counter is clean. Sometimes.
Every picture I post has a terribly messy countertop as a back drop. Once in a while, I do put things away.
As I scoured my archives looking for a link, I ran across these picture of my kids. The post is titled Bad Hair Days. My kids were so little and cute once.