I had two conversations about hair today, not counting the long, raucous, lively discourse between me and my stylist from 2pm to 5pm.

Before I surrendered myself to her care, I talked with my secretary.  Miranda is 23, a Paul Mitchell School graduate, and  beautifully kept herself.  I disclosed to her that I completely fall apart when I interact with hairdressers.  She tried to understand but confusion danced across her face.  It’s about growing up believing myself to be unworthy of the money or the effort, I told her.  I could feel the kindness pouring from her.  Just tell her what you want, she suggested.

I can’t.  I just can’t.  Fortunately, the woman who took over as my stylist after my long-time hairdresser unexpectedly passed away totally rocks.  I had not been to her since she pinched-hit for Robert when he couldn’t make an appointment on what turned out to be the day before he died.  I couldn’t bring myself to sit across from his station for months.  It felt disloyal.  This compounded my normal anxiety about asking for service and spending a huge chunk of change on something as frivolous as a vain attempt to look presentable.

This evening I visited with a new acquaintance who came to bid some work at my house.  We found an unexpected kinship in our respective recent efforts to change our approaches to life and forge a new philosophy.  He told me about books he had been reading; and I explained my quest to internalize the philosophies of non-violent communication.  He spoke of re-programming old beliefs about his shortcomings.

I told him about my reluctance to get my hair done.  He completely understood.  He had the same anxieties as I do.  Not about hair, but about himself.  After he’d left to go home and take care of his sick wife, I remained on the porch, in the coolness of the night, contemplating lies we tell ourselves about our inferiority.

Today I spent $175 getting my hair done, not counting tip.  I calculated that as $58 an hour.  Way cheaper than therapy, and I laughed the entire time.  Completely worth every penny.

It’s the twenty-fifth day  of the thirty-second month of My [Ongoing] Year Without Complaining. My life continues, a little lighter, a little less tattered.


Its not quite as gorgeous as when I left the salon but still feels great!

Its not quite as gorgeous as when I left the salon but still feels great!

My amazing new look was created by Kelley Blond at Lady Lucky Hair Parlour in Westport.

4 thoughts on “Hair

  1. Ruth Roberts

    I just learned self love recently. I had an abusive childhood but my grandma was my rock. So I would place my hand gently on my cheek the way she would and feel the love she felt for me. It’s hard to learn a thing you’ve not really experienced. But a great beginning is with taking really good care of yourself. Your haircut was worth every penny.

    1. ccorleyjd365 Post author

      Thank you. I had to wash it because my scalp reacted. Today I’m back to my wavy-au-naturel style. But it looks healthier than it has in a long time!


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *