There are some things for which a woman will never alter her routine, no matter what.
Five weeks into my master bath/bed remodel I’m finally getting use to having construction workers under foot all day. And wouldn’t you know it? They’re almost done. At least I hope so.
Certain appointments have been delayed because of my desire to be on hand for my pets, and for the rare question my contractor might ask. My next dental visit could wait. And my massage therapist hasn’t seen me in months.
But there’s no ignoring the white roots atop my scalp, once they’ve begun the reclamation process. One day I will fling off the trappings of youth and proudly proclaim my senior citizen status. Until then my hairdresser, Zorianna, and I are “dye-hard” best buds.
Most women will agree that the way their hair goes…is the way their day goes. It is our crowning glory. Or not. If it’s frizzy or limp, no amount of fussing will make it better. Been there; done that. We’ll even go so far as to apologize for how we look. You know…bad hair day. It takes a concerted effort to not let our unglorious hair ruin a good time.
Until Zorianna restored my tresses to their fake color, normally a brunette, I was an Asian posing as a Caucasian. “How’s that?” you ask. Our recent spring sunshine helped spread the few streaks of highlighter Zorianna gave me during my last visit.
I told my massage therapist when I saw her recently that we could be related. My hair was almost as blonde as hers.
I’m sure that was a knowing smile my contractor gave me when I reappeared later today. I hadn’t told him where I was going when I left. The 31-year-old was wise not to comment…or even register a look of surprise. Or are men clueless? Maybe he really didn’t notice the change.
The only man whose opinion matters is my husband. And he’s okayed my hair routine. We’ll both be in for a shock…
…when my crowning glory…finally catches up…with the rest of me…