December 4, 2012
Okay, I’m a few days late. But I was busy this weekend. It’s the first Christmas in my new place. I had to figure out where all the decorations go. Okay, I’m still trying to figure some of that out. I’ve got just about everything situated, but there are still a few things that need to find homes.
But more importantly, on Saturday, I got a haircut. The last time I decided it was time to go back to my short hair style, I donated my locks hair to Locks of Love. (It really is a gross misnomer to call my hair “locks”. It is stick straight and the hairspray required to hold my ringlets when I played Clara in The Nutcracker is probably responsible for the hole in the ozone layer.) I decided that from then on, I’d always grow my hair back to a point that was long enough to donate. Well, I’ve been in my waffle stage. Oh, it’s so cute when it’s short. Yeah, but then you can’t braid it. But it’s so fast to deal with in the morning; pull a brush through it and you’re done. But you like French braids.
You get the idea.
At my last appointment, I told Yalanda I’d be donating at my next one. And then I continued waffling for six weeks. And then, on Thursday, my hair discovered its inner Big Hair and was everywhere when I woke up. I was quite happy to give it to Locks of Love on Saturday.
And now, my hair is back to its usual short version, and I’m very happy. And I’m waiting to see what my boss says. Yesterday, he asked how my weekend was. I said it was good. He said his was good, too. He was in the office today, too. Nothing. I’ve had this job long enough that this isn’t my first drastic haircut since I’ve worked with him. The last time, a week or two later, he sat down, looked at me, and said, “There’s something different. You’re not wearing your glasses.”
Yeah, I’m looking forward to finding out what he’s going to say when he notices (or not) this time.