The New Haircut: Chapter 2

Yesterday I used the new products I got and blew dry my hair all by myself like a big girl. I clearly have watched too much reality TV because I had this nagging feeling that a room full of gay men were watching me and commenting cattily on what a poor job I was doing.

Despite the imagined pressure from the non-existant flock o’ gays (unless there’s a hidden camera somewhere in our white bathroom), the hair ended up looking kinda cute. When I was done styling it, I didn’t cry. I took this to be a good sign. Sure, the texturizing makes the me look a bit like the poor man’s Meg Ryan. But better than then the Pat Benetar meets Mrs. Brady cut Jeneel gave me the last time I cheated on Frances with her.

Yes, I failed to mention that this is my second indiscretion with Jeneel. The first one went horribly wrong, leaving me chugging vitamins by the fistful in order to get my hair to grow back faster. (Never a good sign.) Again, it’s not like I was Jennifer Aniston with a world class hairstyle that was suddenly destroyed. The cut that I’d had before Jeneel’s first attempt at transforming me was the same droopy unstyled mop that I’ve had for years. But it was *my* droopy unstyled mop. I’ve never been one for change.

At any rate, never let it be said that I’m not willing to make the same mistake twice. Jeneel seems to have the ability to unleash dozens of friends’ latent fabulous hairdos. So, I thought I should give her one more crack at mine. Besides, ever since Mark and I have gone on our austerity plan, I’ve actually been successful at racheting back on my spending. I was overdue for throwing a wad of cash away on something unnecessary, and a $95 hair cut enabled that quite nicely. To ensure frivolous-spending success, I’m returning next week for a $70 dye job.