Gettin' Done Up

I hadn't gotten a haircut since 2 weeks before Ella was born, so that puts us somewhere in the begining of September. As a former salon junkie, I know this is an unacceptable amount of time. Well, that's relative, I guess. When I was a junkie, I could justify 2 or 3 or 5 trips a month for root touch-ups (I was highlighted), nail repairs, bang trims or an eyebrow hair gone awry. Then kid number one came....and the addiction slowed a bit. Once a month would have to do. It's expensive. Kid two came. Holy moly, did they raise their prices?! $45 for a haircut and 2 hours in a chair...while my kids are probably killing the babysitter....every six weeks would have to do. Now, kid number 3. Sorry, I mean children. I'm not raising billy goats. Although some days it would be debatable. Anyway, Ella arrived, and like I said, I had just gotten my salon fix a few weeks prior. I noticed just the other day, and she's over 2 months old, mind you, that my ends were a little fuzzy and some greys were poking through my dark brown. Upon closer examination, I also noticed my eyebrows were moving in together and my hair that was once called "shimmering mocha" was more of a dull cardboard brown. Well, and I noticed the crows feet and lines on my forehead when I contorted my face different ways, and the fleeting thought of Botox entered my head. But notice I said fleeting. Let's be real, here. So, I called my salon and signed myself up for the "Glam Shape Up Package." What could remedy my situation better than that?

So I headed in to the beauty parlor this morning, after painstakingly choosing an outfit that did not involve fleece or elastic waistbands. And then, the process of plucking, waxing, "glazing" (a new hair term I learned), texturizing and general self-confidence building procedures commenced. My dear gay friend, affectionately, my "Will" showed up too, and got highlights alongside me, while we discussed the things that are making us feel old and ugly. I confessed I want lipo for Christmas. He confessed he is thinking of going to Chicago for hair transplants. I watched people come in and out....the "regulars" who didn't need 2 plus hours to get beautified. Just a touch up here or there, like I used to be. I watched a woman next to me tell her stylist all about her daughter needing braces. I studied her mouth as she said the word "braces"...she stretched her lips out all dramatically. I forced myself not to imitate her, although I pictured how I'd do it in my head. I listened to another stylist as she told her client all about how Christmas wasn't her holiday to have her kids, so she and her live-in boyfriend would be going to Cabo for a week. I looked hard to see if she looked bothered by the fact that she wouldn't have her kids...but she didn't.

I pulled out my pocketbook and grimaced when the stylist finally delivered the news of my bill. And I went home, not out to some posh lunch spot for a $9 half-sandwich and a sparkling water. I went home to my kids, where no one really noticed that my eyebrows broke up and my hair was shinier than a Christmas bulb.

And I put on my sweatpants.