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Open Spaces
1 year ago
Monday, May 30, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
What goes around comes around
I enjoyed the Royal Wedding last month, old enough to be the mother of the bride. Her dress was perfect. I'm sure she felt like a Princess - Princess Catherine.
My dress had the same Queen Anne neckline, fitted lace sleeves and satin skirt with lace accents. My lace may have been plainer, the chapel length train shorter, but the result was the same. I felt like a princess, too.
It wasn't hard to dig up this old picture. For some reason I've always kept the little portfolio of bridal pictures in my sock drawer. Doesn't everyone?
The Royal Princess Kate did have much longer hair. My wedding hair would have been long, too, but for the arrogant opinion of a hair stylist a couple of years prior. I went in for a trim, he started cutting in the back. I heard him say "I haven't done this haircut in a while, I think it will look really good on you."
You know how that story ends. Shocked at seeing ALL my hair on the floor, I couldn't stop the tears. At least he felt guilty enough to scoot me out of the store without making me pay.
On the Royal Wedding Day, April 29, 2011, I got my hair cut. Still learning the style of my new stylist, I took a picture of the "do" I was hoping for. She had similar ideas and pictures and got to work. As she finished up I saw that horrible college era haircut reflecting back from the mirror. When she asked how I liked it, I honestly told her I hated it. Together we looked at the pictures. The top halves looked similar, but my hair was only half the picture. I have no hair below my ears.
It's been over three decades since I came home from a haircut and immediately jumped in the shower to get rid of the "hair products" and try to see if I could salvage my self portrait. Other than that and some groaning and pouting, though, I think I have handled this setback with dignity. I paid and tipped generously for the haircut. I did not cry, maybe teared up some, but definitely did not cry. When people compliment my new style I thank them without grimacing.
It's been almost three weeks and I'm starting to recognize the face in the mirror. The hair is almost long enough to wring the water out after shampooing. It's a good haircut, it's just not me. There is zero chance of me posting a current picture.
In a couple of weeks Ricky and I will attend a "black tie" wedding. I had been looking forward to dressing up before this latest scalping. But hair grows and now that I know I must curb her exuberance, I am optimistic that with two more weeks my new stylist can work a little magic to give me a look that matches my little black dress.
After all, it's a wedding. Every bride is a princess at a wedding.
My dress had the same Queen Anne neckline, fitted lace sleeves and satin skirt with lace accents. My lace may have been plainer, the chapel length train shorter, but the result was the same. I felt like a princess, too.
It wasn't hard to dig up this old picture. For some reason I've always kept the little portfolio of bridal pictures in my sock drawer. Doesn't everyone?
The Royal Princess Kate did have much longer hair. My wedding hair would have been long, too, but for the arrogant opinion of a hair stylist a couple of years prior. I went in for a trim, he started cutting in the back. I heard him say "I haven't done this haircut in a while, I think it will look really good on you."
You know how that story ends. Shocked at seeing ALL my hair on the floor, I couldn't stop the tears. At least he felt guilty enough to scoot me out of the store without making me pay.
On the Royal Wedding Day, April 29, 2011, I got my hair cut. Still learning the style of my new stylist, I took a picture of the "do" I was hoping for. She had similar ideas and pictures and got to work. As she finished up I saw that horrible college era haircut reflecting back from the mirror. When she asked how I liked it, I honestly told her I hated it. Together we looked at the pictures. The top halves looked similar, but my hair was only half the picture. I have no hair below my ears.
It's been over three decades since I came home from a haircut and immediately jumped in the shower to get rid of the "hair products" and try to see if I could salvage my self portrait. Other than that and some groaning and pouting, though, I think I have handled this setback with dignity. I paid and tipped generously for the haircut. I did not cry, maybe teared up some, but definitely did not cry. When people compliment my new style I thank them without grimacing.
It's been almost three weeks and I'm starting to recognize the face in the mirror. The hair is almost long enough to wring the water out after shampooing. It's a good haircut, it's just not me. There is zero chance of me posting a current picture.
In a couple of weeks Ricky and I will attend a "black tie" wedding. I had been looking forward to dressing up before this latest scalping. But hair grows and now that I know I must curb her exuberance, I am optimistic that with two more weeks my new stylist can work a little magic to give me a look that matches my little black dress.
After all, it's a wedding. Every bride is a princess at a wedding.
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