A few weeks back, I finally got my arse into gear and got an appointment to get my hair cut. Months of the post-partum delights (aka me with sissors) had changed my normal happy go lucky look into something more from a zombie flick, as you all might remember, and people were noticing. Especially my children. There is something just not so fun about your 6 year old telling you your hair looks like crap.
I made the appointment with my coffier neighbor, Pierre, at his salon in the big city. I counted down the days till I would be there, safe in the hands of a professional and all his fabulous smelling shampoos. I couldn't wait for the head massage I knew I would be getting as he frothed out those odors of chien and I would sip on a hot tea. It would be calm! It would be relaxing! I'd be all new and pretty!
And you know what? It was just like that. And the best part about being someone who waits 10 years between salon visits? It was all the looks from the other coffiers at how amazing and beautiful I was now that Pierre had cut my hair. If only they had taken before and after shots just to prove to the world what miracles Pierre and his team could do!
The only trouble with such a wonderful life changing visit to the hairdresser is that you have to go home. And inevitably, you have to take a shower and wash your hair. I delayed it as long as possible, but it had to happen in the end. And ever since, I'm back to looking like that zombie.
It's as if I never had it cut. It's fuzzy, frizzy, and I keep having to tye it in a knot on my head. I've tried drying it, I've tried brushing it, but nothing I've done will get my crazy hair back to the sleek sophisticated look that Pierre achieved. Nothing.
Nothing, that is, until I went and saw Sophie at another salon today.
Yes. YES! I admit it!!! I cheated on Pierre with another woman!!! I couldn't take it any longer!!! The temptation was too much!!! It was so easy and my GOD, do I look GOOD again!! SOOOO GOOD!! I'm sleek, I'm beautiful! I'm not taking a shower till Sunday!!
Of course, I'm now a nervous wreck about running into Pierre this weekend. There's no way I can hide the new look in a knot on my head. I'm going to have to find a hat and run the dogs really fast past his place. (What's the penance on this kinda adultery, anyway? Four home colouring sessions and a dozen Hail Marys? An Act of Contrition and cheap shampoos till Christmas?) But if I do see Pierre, look at that! Yet another wonderful opportunity for me to forget how to speak French entirely!
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