When I was young and single, I began to indulge in getting fabulous haircuts and highlites. I loved it. Being a poor college student, I couldn't really afford much, but my hair...my hair I started to splurge on. It felt fantastic. Being a nursing student and working as a nurse (haha, confused?), it would have been silly for me to make my indulgence manicures or pedicures, I would have destroyed my nails within a day or so, and I didn't have the chance to show off my feet enough to justify pedicures. Going to the salon became a theraputic moment of girly happiness for me, and I felt like the foxiest chic on the block when I walked out with my new 'do'.
According to tradition, marriage and family changes things...a lot. I used to make it to the salon every other month or so, and after getting married, it slowly lengthened to every 4ish months. Then motherhood arrived and my leisurely indulgence at the salon quickly turned into a quick-and-dirty every 6 months or so affair. *Sigh*, the true sacrifices your mother never told you about. Since my hair doesn't grow that fast anyway, it's always hard to justify the monetary salon-escape when there are always other things I know I *should* be spending/saving my money on/for.
My last haircut was in April. APRIL. This is 8 months ago, dear readers. 8 months of slowly growing, stressful, split end hair follicles hanging loosely around my tired and puffy face that now sports the extra-baggy-eye-special (you too can have this look!). Of course, anyone that's been pregnant knows you feel your ugliest and fattest and most undesirable during those last 3 months of pregnancy...and I am certainly not excluding myself! I was in desperate need of a haircut. I also would have whole-heartedly welcomed a real salon visit, complete with highlites, shampoo, a leisurely cut and style (oh yeah), but...let's not be ridiculous here.
I had a rare opportunity last night to get a haircut, and it seemed as though the universe was against me. The mother of my home care child had the day off from work and was planning to take her child to a concert, leaving by 3:30. Since my shift is usually done at 6:15ish, and from there is rush to pick up Marin, I was delighted that this would give me a couple of hours to revel in some much needed scalp-time. The concert had been pushed back an hour and then the mother considered just going by herself as the child had fallen asleep. I kindly informed her that he could sleep that night. After an hour nap and getting him ready, this child was in one of the crankiest moods I had EVER seen! I feared that mom would leave him behind and my haircut would be lost! I cheerily sang songs with him and got his backpack ready to go and escorted them to their car, holding my breath until they drove away. I then rushed to finish my paperwork and duties and scampered to my car, hoping to beat the rush hour 5:00 traffic. I quickly maneuvered my car to the ramp and around the bend to encounter 3 miles of stopped traffic. It took me 10 minutes alone to cross the bridge! How could this be?! I calmed myself saying I still had time and not to worry. After the traffic broke up, and being a Las Vegas driver for 3 years (you learn to be assertive), I steadily worked my way to the very simple and humble Super Cuts in the Albertson's shopping complex. I arrived knowing I had enough time for a 30 minute work-up, and when I heard the wait time was 20 minutes, I turned and left...and started to panic. Why was the universe punishing me?! It had been 8 long months and my sad hair was daily pulled into a bun to hide it's shameful state of being. I wasn't even trying to splurge! I was literally on the verge of tears and I scrambled to find a close-by salon on my GPS. The first spot was un-find-able, and I again almost started crying. As I peered out of the window through teary eyes while driving by a small shopping complex, I spied it. A small, empty, clean salon. Jackpot. I quickly turned around and parked, telling the little Asian lady in the salon I only had time for a quick cut and to PLEASE...fix my hair!! She seemed to understand my haste and gave me a very speedy haircut. It was the quickest haircut I have EVER had, no wash, no high-lites, no razzle dazzle, just my hair and 20 minutes of thinning shears and scissors and a little product and I was done. I relished every second, every little moment of being in that chair. I paid my 23 dollars (impressed?) and walked out with a sigh of relief, and although I was sporting a rather Asian looking 'do', I didn't care. I didn't have 8 months of neglected, ragged looking hair hanging off of my scalp. Isn't it funny how your perception of satisfaction changes as a parent? And while I still miss my day's of lavish salon haircuts, I am no less satisfied with my 23 dollar Asian haircut. Better luck next time?