Makeover Saturday

In case my profile picture hasn't tipped you off, I have issues.

One of them is that I am allergic to making appointments. And I mean seriously allergic. I have no idea what my parents did to me as a child, but I avoid having to commit to being anywhere at a specific time with such an inexplicable work ethic, I can only assume it is all their fault.

I force myself to see my family doctor and the dentist once a year, and am glad my insurance only covers an eye exam every second year, but other than that, I run from appointment-making like my life depends on it. As a result, no professional hairstylist has touched my hair in nearly six years. Yes, I said SIX years.

Back in June, the Captain (probably very tired of waking up next to a cat lady) wrote me up two homemade coupons. One gave me permission to get myself a pair of fashionable prescription sunglasses. The other ordered me to get my butt to a salon for a cut, colour, and whatever else would make me look less homeless.

The glasses were easy and I had that done by mid-August. The hair thing I put off and made excuses about for the next five months. This week, I made a couple of feeble attempts at booking myself an appointment at one of the two salons in our tiny town, and also with someone nearby who works out of her own home. But as soon as I hit a wall (one salon was fully booked, one didn't answer and one didn't call me back), I was ready to give up and wait another five months before trying again. Seriously, it was exhausting.

But this morning I had to take Firstborn to the big city for a haircut at one of those walk-in chains, so I decided to take a chance. Call me a cheapskate, but I'm perfectly happy with a $20 haircut if I don't walk out looking worse than I did before. Plus, young stylists just out of hair school need to start somewhere, and I'm happy to help them out. But if I'm honest, it's really all about not having to book an appointment.

My stylist had purple hair, an armload of tattoos and an opinion on just about everything. But man, she did a nice job! And she's the first stylist I've ever met who suggested I make use of my natural curl instead of trying to brush/flat-iron/spray it flat! My new do is cute AND easy! And I had enough cash left over to buy a whole bag of professional quality products designed to keep my hair from going all cat-lady dry and crazy again! That last part made the Captain roll his eyes so far back into his head, I wasn't sure his pupils were going to reappear. But I don't care. I'm happy with my hair, for the first time in YEARS!

And now, you be the judge. Here's my before and after:

Before: Note the creative use of facial expression to make myself look extra terrible. I learned that from reading fashion magazines.

After: It's a whole new me!

I realize that this situation has not been a self-help experience. I'm now more convinced than ever that I don't need to make appointments. But you know what they say in all those 12-step programs--one day at a time. I'll just make an appointment some other day.