Wednesday, March 17, 2010

getting my her did

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Internet! I'm an Irish girl, so there will always be a special place in my heart for this holiday. If you're not Irish, you can be Irish for the day. And if you have opinions on how we celebrate it wrongly or whatever, get your own blog. I like this holiday (which, if you've been reading, you'll know is huge for me. I don't like most holidays.). So slainte!

And it's a weeknight and I have a lot going on at work, so I won't be going OUT tonight. But, I am drinking my requisite Guinness (my namesake on my biological momma's side) opened with my genuine Irish bottle opener (the bottle opener I accidentally stole in Dublin like 3 years ago from my Irish hookup that looked like Cillian Murphy and was entirely too young for me.).

There is a lot going on at work. And most of it I really can't publicly have an opinion on and all of it I refuse to discuss on here. So I'll just say this: HOOBOY am I tired! Tense is an understatement.

And so it came at incredibly good timing that I had a hair appointment today. There are a few things in life that truly relax me. And getting my hair done is one of them. I love it. I love getting my hair washed and my scalp massaged (and my stylist Kat massages my neck too. heaven.) and the yummy-smelling professional products that make my hair feel like cornsilk. I love getting pampered, the whole process. And I'm not one to close my eyes either. I watch intently, because it's incredibly interesting. Every part.

And getting your hair done is a huge exercise in trust. I hate going to a new stylist for the first time, because I have no relationship with this person. They don't know my hair. They don't know what I like. There is no trust built yet. And Kat and I are just getting to the point where I completely trust her. I know she understands what I'm communicating and I can just enjoy the process without worrying what might happen.

Of course the worst part is when it's all over. I actually have to get out of the chair and leave. Leave? You mean I have to go back to the real world where I'm not the center of attention and there is no one dedicated to pampering me? That's just wrong.

But naturally I love what Kat did to mes cheveaux this time. It's softer and lighter and swingyer (ok, not a word) and I can't stop touching it. After my cut, I had to go by the bank and stop off at a local (and delicious!) pizza joint for a fundraiser and I found myself feeling like I'm in a shampoo commercial as I walked downtown, swinging my hair, walking with a little more confidence than usual (which isn't saying much. I'm a confident walker.).

And I realized that this is why rich people's lives are so awesome. It's not the cash or the houses or the cars or the Gucci (okay, maybe it's the Gucci). It's the freedom to be pampered on a regular basis.

Because everyone deserves to be pampered. And to leave feeling fresh and shiny. It's just what I needed to relax today. Victims of disasters and trauma should be sent to spas and stylists. Give these people massages and pedicures and hair cuts.

It works wonders on the soul.

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