Friday I got a haircut. I have only gotten my hair done once since moving here and I loved, loved, loved, loved, loved it. It was the best cut and color I have gotten in a very long time. Friday was the only day I knew I had free for a cut before C's change-of-command so when they told me my previous stylist was off that day I went ahead and went with who they had free.
Well ... she wasn't really "free" because she was cutting and coloring two of us at the same time (do not ASK me how that is possible but she found a way). She was obviously preoccupied because she somehow misinterpreted the just above the shoulder cut that I showed her with something several inches shorter.
She butchered my hair.
And butchered is appropriate because she didn't ask or check she just cut - a HUGE chunk - like the entire back portion of my head at the same time. There was no going back. My hair is above my chin. I spent two-and-a-half hours at the salon while the manager tried to fix it. And the best she could do was make me look "less like Laura Bush" or less like I had a "bubble on my head" (her words).
(I think the former first lady is one of the classiest of women - but I don't want her haircut on my head.)
I cried.
I was that upset. And we won't even go into the fact that I have blonde highlights rather than the red lowlights that I asked for or that the hair-dye left to drip down my face had to be scrubbed off by a combination of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda.
It's a really bad hair cut. A really bad salon experience. Really, really bad.
Luckily, I had a week and a half to pray it back. (I'm desperate). I had a week and a half before I was to be introduced to this new unit. A week and a half to somehow feel confident in the craziness I now saw in the mirror.
C just came home for lunch to tell me.
He's getting hailed tomorrow night. We are getting introduced to the unit in twenty-four hours. No matter how much vitamin B I put into my system I will not have hair below my chin before tomorrow night.
Maybe that is what is making me feel nervous. I'm a people person. I'll talk to anyone. I love meeting new spouses. But I swear when he said that I felt sick. It's been a while since we've done this. It's been a while since we've "belonged" to a unit. It's been a while for a lot of things.
I am so very excited and nervous and ready and ... not ready. Why I am just a little bit scared? I know how to do this. I know how to "belong" but what if they aren't like the others? What if they aren't accepting? What if I can't be the same me? What if they don't like me?
I feel like I'm starting a new school ... or about to enter a competition that is entirely subjective ... or about to perform a song on stage and I am nervous I won't remember the words, or I'll crack, or the audience just won't like my voice.
Where did this come from??
It's the haircut. It's gotta be the haircut. Messing up my mojo.
Maybe I'll borrow someone's stetson ... : )
