Nick's Hair

Today I got my hair cut. Not short, like I had originally planned, but Nick, my hair guru, cut some layers into it and, of course, styled it like I never can. So check me out now because my hair won't look like this again until I see Nick again. In like six months.

Some of you wanted to what it looks like. OK, maybe one person said that.

Anyway.


I feel totally silly sitting here and having pictures taken of myself.


The back view.


From the side. Tara was totally cracking me up, making modeling comments a la Austin Powers.





Wishing for a chin and nose job about now.



This is the first photo we took. It didn't come out exactly like planned. Tara's dog is licking my toes. It tickles.

I wore it down all day. I hope Nick is pleased. Even when I ate, I didn't put it up. I did get some hair near the danger zone of my mouth while I was trying to eat my salad for lunch, but it all worked out OK with a little behind the ear tucking.

But then it was time to make dinner. It was about 95 degrees. I did this:



Don't hate me, Nick.

Pink Eye. Awesome.

We almost made it, people. Almost. We almost made it to the end of the school year (June 3) with no one else coming down with some sort of contagion. And then I got a phone call last week that Declan's friend, who sits next to him in class, has pink eye.

I waited.

Declan never got it.

But Finn did.

From the kid who sits next to him.

Fortunately, I was ready with drops AND a homeopathic remedy. I was taking no chances.

Finn: Will I be going to school tomorrow?

Me: Yes.

Declan: Aren't you supposed to stay home when you get pink eye?

Me: Yes.

Finn: But I'm going to school?

Me: Yes.

Because seriously, it's the last few days of school. Clearly everyone else has had it and given it to my kids, yet again. And I am annoyed. In fact, when I went over to school to give Finn the drops this morning (you've got to hit them 6 times in the first 24 hours), the kid who sits next to Finn said, "Hey, I've got a pink eye, too!"

Yes, I know, I heard.

And then I lectured him about handwashing.

Because I'm fun like that.


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About the hair: I WILL post pictures, after Nick does his thing to it on June 7. I won't subject you to how I look on a daily basis--it's the "I just worked out and haven't had time to shower" look. No one needs to see that. Except the other parents picking up their kids after school.

Hair Update

When are you going to cut your hair? It's the number one question people who knew me with short hair ask. No one out here ever asks me that because they've only ever known me with long hair. But the people from my short hair past want to know.

While the original intent was to grow my hair for Locks of Love--and I do still want to donate it--the long hair has actually become a necessity. When I wear my hair short, like I have for my entire life, my hair grows really quickly. I used to get my hair cut every 5 - 6 weeks. And I was dismayed to discover that hair cuts out here are nearly twice what they were in Ohio. So I refer to my long hair as my Recession 'Do.

Last October I was certain I was to the Locks of Love cutting point (10 inches). I went in to see Nick, my hair guru, and he talked me out of cutting it. Which I was OK with. Long hair is really easy during ski season--you just throw it in a ponytail, let it flop out the back of your helmet, and you're good to go.

So when I got to the salon last October, Nick said, "You spent all this time growing it, why don't you enjoy it for awhile? Come in when you're really sick of it and then we'll cut it." He did cut a few inches off and shaped it up. It looked really cute--when he styled it. I was never able to replicate The Look. Of course.

All winter I had this thought that I'd cut it in May. And I was slowly getting sick of my hair. We had plans to be in Ohio and Virginia during the summer and all I could think about was all of this hot hair clinging to my neck in the humid summer weather in the east (I wasn't so worried about it in our six week summer out here!). It just sounded gross and I decided I didn't want to spend another summer with long hair.

I made an appointment this past Tuesday to consult with Nick about what my new look would be. What would he suggest? A short bob? Something layered? Nick has curly hair himself and he's the best stylist of curly hair I've ever been to, so I was excited to see what his vision was. I was ready for a short, fun style.

I washed and really spent time on my hair that morning because when I go in, Nick likes to see how the customer styles it so he can get a feel for how it looks. Plus, since it was just a consultation, he wouldn't be washing it. And of course, as anyone's hair does on the day you're going to the salon, it looked awesome. Not the annoying hair I'd been wanting to chop off for weeks. It was super curly with some good wispy pieces around my face. What the heck? My hair is betraying me.

So I get to the salon and Nick remarks that he has never seen my hair look better. What? He still doesn't want to cut it. He tells me it looks organic, which I think might be code for messy and crazy and he's just afraid to say it to my face. And apparently organic is in. For once in my life I might have in hair. I totally don't get it. We are talking hundreds of dollars out of his pocket because he thinks I should wear my hair long.

This explains why my hair is, after three years, still long. Nick is going to lop off a few inches and give it some style next week, but I'm still sporting a mane. Just in case you were wondering when I was going to cut it. My new answer is: when the economy improves and when Nick lets me. He's pretty much in charge.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?

And now, by popular demand (actually just by one person's demand), is a Hair Update.

FYI: I have curly hair. Growing up, I hated it. Let me reiterate: HATED IT. It was the 70s--the era of Marsha Brady and her super straight hair secured by one barrette at her temple. I begged my Mom to put my hair into pigtails like Tara who did have Marsha hair (is two considered pig tails and one a pony tail?), but she always said, "It won't look right," because instead of hanging in nice straight "tails" my hair curled up into a truly curly pig-like tail. I was sad. Oh, how I wanted super straight hair. But it wasn't meant to be. I was born with a 'fro. No lie.

Over the years I've sported some different hairstyles, but there aren't a whole lot of options with short, curly hair. It tends to always look the same. And if you cut it too short, you look like a Q-tip, especially in the summer when your curls adhere to your head in the humidity of Central Ohio.

The longest my hair has been before now was in grad school when it was nearly shoulder length. It wasn't a good look, but it was summer and I was traveling around Europe with friends so who really cared? We had hats on much of the time anyway. As an aside, ask Marci about why you shouldn't put your favorite hat in a backpack with a peach.

Anyway, not a lot of hair stylists can really work well with curly hair. If they don't have it themselves, I think they're somewhat mystified by it. And then we moved, and I found Nick. Actually I should say that Tara forced me on Nick, but it sounds better to say I found Nick. Nick is a hair stylist with curly hair. My life has never been the same.

Tara and Erin have both had mostly long hair throughout their lives. Right now they both have short hair because they cut it for Locks of Love already. So I, the usually short-haired one, am the only one with long hair now. It's been an interesting journey.

Two years ago we all, including my niece, Ellie, decided to grow our hair for Locks of Love. Tara and Erin already had long hair and mine probably wasn't even chin length at the time. So they had a little jump on me. I'll never forget when Tara told Craig we were growing our hair. Instead of commenting on his wife's efforts, he stared at her with his mouth open: "Natalie is going to grow her hair? Natalie? She'll look like Elaine Benes!"

That made me laugh. I figured he was probably right.

So now after all of this growing and not weaving of my hair--Locks of Love supposedly doesn't accept color treated hair--and enduring comments from my mother: "Your hair is so long. . .and dark," I think I'm almost there. Thank goodness because over the weekend I had to listen to some comments from people who shall remain nameless telling me I resemble an aging Janis Joplin. Or that I should be in an 80s hair band.

The cons: Long hair swings forward and gets in your mouth when you're trying to eat a sandwich. It gets in your mouth when the wind blows. It sticks to your neck when it's hot. It takes a long time to dry. It gets tangled and dreadlock-ish on a regular basis. It takes a lot more shampoo and conditioner to take care of it.

The pros: It is fun, however, to braid it, put it up in a pony tail, put it in pigtails for skiing, clip it up in some sort of twist, etc. After all of these years, doing different things with my hair every day is a nice change.

I've heard varying things about what length I need to go to before I cut it. I've heard as little as eight inches and as much as 12 inches. If it's eight, I'm there. If it's 12, I'm hanging on. I've got 12 inches of cutable hair, but it'll be right up against my head--a look I've had before and would like to steer clear of from now on.

I usually wear it clipped back because I can't stand having it fall into my face. Which basically tells me that once this hair growing folly is over, I'll go to Nick and have him give me some short, curly do again and order will be restored in the world.

The front view. . .



The rear view. . .

(I know it doesn't look like 10 inches, but with curly hair, they pull it straight to measure it.)


Not exactly Marsha Brady, but it's growing on me.