So yesterday, Jason was desperate to get his hair cut. It was touching his ears, and that is a PROBLEM. He gets all fidgety and tries to tuck it behind his ears--but you cannot tuck man hairs. Not man hairs that are mere centimeters long. What was even more of a problem was that the barber shop he usually frequents had already closed for the day. And this is proof of how desperate he was: he wanted to go to one of the mall salons to have someone--ANYONE--stop the hair-on-ears torture. So we did--and I managed to get an appointment at the same time as him. Score! This was good because it meant that I could get my hair cut too--and also that I would not be able to wander the mall unsupervised, spending his money on red sparkly underwears and cute tins of mints. Not to worry though, that's what I did today, with spousal approval. Obviously, I require seasonal undergarments for the ladies (this, in red)--and Jason completely supports that. If your intended life partner is not on board the seasonal undergarment train, well... put it in a pre-nup.
The salon we went to, Hair Excitement, was waaay better than I expected from a mall salon. And with a name like Hair Excitement (Hair Excitement!!!!!111oneONE), can you blame me for having low expectations? But people, hold on to your ear-grazing hairs: THEY SERVE BOOZE. That is right, you can sit there in the chair and down a beer while you get beautiful. And that is exactly what Jason did (they also have wine, pop, and bottled water). Oh, and they give good haircuts. But really, let's focus on the important thing: THE FREE BOOZE. Nothing makes one feel manly like sipping a frosty glass of Bud Light while sitting in a salon full of women and getting one's ear hairs trimmed into a military-acceptable fade.
Later on, my manly man admitted that he liked going to the salon, and that he actually prefers it to the barber shop. You read that right, people: my no-nonsense sailor likes to get his groom on at the beauty parlor. This could lead us into a whole new world of couples activities. Facials? Mani/pedis? WAXING? THE DOOR HAS BEEN OPENED.
Jason even liked his stylist (they gave him the boy), and said that he enjoyed chatting with him as he sat there. He admitted he felt way more comfortable and welcomed in the salon than at the barber shop. I know, WHAT? I learn something new about my husband every day.
As for me, I was long overdue for a nice chop, but I have this problem. I have always been loyal to my stylist at home in Michigan. My mom, sister, and I have gone to her since I was a little kid. I last saw her when I was home in May--I got my wedding updo grow-out whacked off. The first picture is a few days before our wedding last December, so you can imagine how long and nasty it was with five months' more growth. Like having a mop on my head, that is how long and nasty it was. I fail at having long hair. It takes forever to dry, it is always flat, it always had weird kinks, and it just generally looks bad. But, going home to Michigan every time I need a trim is not so feasible, and that is why I tend to put off getting it cut. And isn't finding a new stylist the worst?
That's my 'do from May in the second picture, fresh from the salon. Let me tell you, I felt like a new woman: sassy and fresh and FREE OF THE MOP. The third picture is from August, just to show how it had grown in a few months. The lesson we learn from these pictures is that 1. My sister is HOT and looks excellent with long hair, and that 2. I am freakishly pale and look better with shorter hair.
So by November? Too long for comfort. I, like Jason, had reached my tipping point. Or my 24-hour ponytail point.
Now, a three-inch chop later, I am feeling oh-so-much better, and looking rather like an anchor for the six o'clock news (this just in: Jason's dimples make me weak in the knees). Behold: