posted Sun, 20 Mar 2005
I’m still not sure what my new haircut looks like. Geri dried and styled my hair after she cut it on Friday, but of course that is a look I will never be able to reproduce. I’ll know tomorrow when I have to blow-dry it before work. Air-dried hair doesn’t look the same as blow-dried. I don’t blow-dry it on weekends. The only reason I bother during the week is that it just doesn’t seem fitting to go to work with wet hair.
This is the haircut! I didn’t get the bangs. Or maybe I did. I won’t know until tomorrow. Even without the bangs, I don’t look like that, of course, but Geri and I had a good time singing the first lines of the good Olivia N-J tunes that we could remember, like “Please, mister, please, don’t pick P-17, it was our song, it was his song, but it’s o-o-o-over.”
I took a photo of Olivia Newton-John with me to the salon. Not because I harbor any illusions that I could ever look like Olivia, but because I like the haircut she has in the photo. When I showed the photo to Geri, we both looked at Olivia, then looked at my reflection in the mirror, then back at Olivia. Neither of us had to say it out loud, but I know what was in her mind because it was in mine, too. “Honey, we can cut your hair like hers, but you’re still not going to look like her.”
I’m not even blonde like Olivia any more. I used to be blonde. Not just blonde, but a natural blonde. Well, OK, some of it was sun and chlorine blonde, but I didn’t get it at a salon. I got this hair because when I was a teenager, I was a lifeguard (not glamorous – think cleaning the bathrooms at the city pool for $3.25 an hour) and on the swim team. So I had gorgeous shiny blonde hair and a great tan (this was when tans were in style and before I realized tan skin in teenagers leads to lizard skin in women of a certain age). I wasn’t even fat for many of my teen years, even though I thought I was.
But did I use my power?
No! No, I was too worried about getting into trouble. I was too worried about my permanent record.
Little did I know there is no such thing.
I have so many friends who are now successful who had completely misspent youths. My youth was – spent? Is that the opposite of misspent? Well, whatever. I was the original goody two shoes. Vice president of the Catholic Youth Organization. Didn’t get drunk until the first time until I was 26. Didn’t hardly ever go to parties. (Still don’t like them.) Never snuck out of the house. Never disobeyed my parents. Never threw a beer bash when my parents were out of town and let my friends trash the house.
Boy, were my brother and sister a surprise to my mom and dad.
So I was the good girl and what did it get me? Nada. It’s about time for me to cut loose, don’t you think?
The working life: The rat race
1 day ago