Random Musings

All Riiiiiight....

Okay, I know what my problem has been. It was my hair. It hadn't been cut in over three weeks, and that was one week longer than I normally go between cuts. I was walking around looking all shaggy around the ears, using cuticle snippers to try to even it up. My neckline had become ragged and undefined. I was caught up in a bad hair week, and believe me, bad hair affects everything that is me.

I think I've blogged this before, but if my hair isn't right, then nothing else on me is right. My hair and my feet- they must be all that at all times.

I am that person who called off work because I woke up having a having a rare, especially bad hair day. Of course I claimed it was something else when I spoke with the secretary, and this is the first time that I've ever admitted it out loud like this, but I did do that once. I couldn't face the world in that condition, so I stayed home to get it together.

Some people use the stars, the moon, the universe to guide their ebbs and flows. Scissors, clippers, hot curlers and flat irons obviously rule mine. Nine West, White Mountain, DSW, Chadwicks.com, and all the rest have their hands in it, too. Good hair and good shoes definitely dictate to me and my moods. It's something that started back when I was a teenager, and it's been escalating to obsession level ever since.

I haven't been feeling my best of late, and have been undergoing tests with various doctors to get at the crux of the problem. Thus, my regularly scheduled hair appointments have had to be pre-emtped in lieu of seeing this specialist or going for that test. Pre-occupied, the last couple of times I was with my hairdresser, I forgot to write myself into the book, so I ended up having to be fit in where she could get me in. This time I wasn't so lucky. I didn't write myself in, and I kept forgetting to call to try to get into the shop during the week.

It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I made the call. As I live about five minutes from the shop(less than that under the right circumstances), Sandra said that she would call me if she had a gap on Saturday. By then my scalp was flaky and itchy, the hair itself had lost its usual high luster. It sat atop my head looking sandy and dull. To the touch, it was as stiff and lifeless as old broom straw. Every time I looked in the mirror, it seemed to mock and ridicule me for neglecting it. It finally got so that I quit looking. I tied a scarf around it and waited for the call to come. It never did.

I waited and waited, but she didn't call. Saturday is the worst day of the week to try to get fitted in to a beauty shop, and I knew that the chances of it happening were miniscule, but still, I hoped....

I drug myself through Sunday, faced with having to get through work on Monday because Monday is hairdressers' and barbers' universal day off. I tried writing to take my mind off of it, but nothing good was coming. I was at a loss as to what to write in this blog, and even my personal journaling went cold. When I can't write, I doodle designs on the journal pages, but that didn't go so well, either. At that time, it didn't dawn on me that my hair was my problem.

It wasn't until yesterday that I was able to go in and get my hair cut. I came home and washed it and allowed it to air dry. Then I got up way early this morning to flat iron it. It's amazing what a good haircut will do for short hair. Every sanitized, shiny, lively strand fell right into place on top of my head and down over my bright brown eyes.

I pulled on my favorite black slacks, a burgundy sleeveless turtleneck and topped it with a natty jacket. On my feet I zipped a pair of sharp burgundy ankle boots that perfectly matched the hues of pink,purple, and burgundy in my jacket and in that turtleneck. In the mirror, I applied my makeup with DaVinci-like precision and gave my hair one last good shake for that carefree effect.

I was good to go.

At school, before first period, I diffused a fight between two girls over some hearsay. As the day played out, I dealt with two notes from the sub about how ugly two of my classes acted on Monday and yesterday. I ignored a negative second-hand comment someone said that someone else made about me. My lessons went well, and tonight I've written something in this blog that wasn't just written to be writing something. I feel good- like me again.

It's always been fascinating to me the small things that matter to people- those things that don't make a bit of sense to anybody else, but that make all the difference to another. It's even better when we recognize, respect, appreciate and just accept those things in others and also, within ourselves.