Last week was not a banner week. I don't want to go into details right now, but it's been miserable. Aside from Friday, when I walked all over DC (more on that in a bit), I haven't done any exercise to speak of; I've been so emotionally wrung out that I just didn't have it in me. "Fortunately", I've not had much of an appetite, so at least I'm not coupling the laziness with lots of stress eating. I suppose that's something.
On Friday, though, I gave myself a bit of a break; my birthday is on Monday and as an early treat, I did something I've been wanting to do for quite a while. The rest of this entry is rated EG for Extra Girly, so I'll put it behind a cut.
So, as I've written before, my hair underwent a major transformation along with my body. As I've gotten older my hair has gone from being mostly straight to getting curlier and curlier; the change has gotten especially noticeable in the past couple of years.
I've always liked curly hair, so it was very thoughtful of my hair to change on its own without having to be soaked with smelly chemicals. But I had very little idea what to do with it.
Neither do a hell of a lot of hairdressers, it turns out. Most of them would stare blankly at my waves for a moment and then whip out a brush, which brings on the Roseanne Roseannadanna look like nobody's business. I'd end up gritting my teeth as they cut, hoping that whatever they did to my hair while it was straight-ish would work when I wore it curly. And it usually did, although the last cut I had a few weeks ago made the back of my hair so even and long that it took almost all the curl out.
And sometimes, just for fun, I'd straighten my hair myself, as you might have noticed in the previous entry. Back when I was getting perms, I never dreamed I'd have need of a flat iron.
But as an early birthday present, I made an appointment at a salon in DC that has an excellent reputation for cutting wavy and curly hair well. I took the day off work and spent the morning in DC shopping before heading to the salon.
If you are a fellow wild-haired girl, I highly recommend finding a similar place in your own area. It was spendier than I'm used to (though not as bad as I expected), but worth it. It's so damn nice to talk to stylists who get that yes, I'd like a cut that enhances my curl, and no, I don't want it blown out straight or flat-ironed, and for god's sake put that damn brush down before someone gets hurt. And after the hell that was last week, it was nice to get pampered a little.
When I got home, I insisted that my husband take some pictures. I still haven't entirely gotten the hang of using a diffuser to blow-dry my hair, and I know that although it'll look nice enough when I have to style it myself, my hair's never going to look like it did when I left the salon:
So that was cool. That made me happy. My husband was so impressed with my hair that he's musing about going there to let them have a whack at his hair. (If you haven't seen him in the photo album, *his* hair is so curly that it makes mine look stick-straight by comparison. I love it, but I know he gets a little fed up with it sometimes.)
Definitely a much-needed treat.