I realize on some level how silly this is, but I love the way I feel after having some beauty ritual performed, be it hair dressing or nail smoothing or whatever. The other day I had my hairs arranged and cut and made to look beautiful. Leaving the salon I could feel it silky and swinging on my neck. Odd how simply having my hairs arranged can provide a pick me up.
I think I have mentioned before that I am not naturally the sort of woman who easily maintains makeup and hair styling and whatnot. I am simply not one of those women who look perfectly made up at all times. I cannot keep my sausagey fingers from looking unkempt. I manage to keep pedicures looking somewhat okay, but I think mostly it is an illusion fostered by toes existing over five-and-half-feet from my eyes. If I get closer, I often notice there are little bumps in the polish or nicks on the edges of my nails.
I am perpetually battling dry feet skin, never able to achieve the milky white perfection seen on Photoshopped advertisements. I could probably make a mint if I figured out how to accomplish that little trick. I will stay on top of the eyebrows for several days in a row, then realize one morning that Hey, I haven’t looked at them in a while. It is with some foreboding I look into the mirror because I have had genuine fears of having my head turn into a shag carpet, Cousin Itt come to life. Yikes! Except for lipstick (my take-to-an-island mainstay), I have never been the sort to wear makeup for any length of time. I invariably forget and rub my eyes, or smear the stuff on my lids, or do something else equally unattractive.
I try to maintain a well-put-together outfit. I actually choose and wear quite pretty clothes. The problem is when nylons start creeping down so the crotch ends up between my thighs, or waistbands creep into uncomfortable creases, or I dribble something on my chest. You get the picture. And after a while, in spite of my greatest efforts, my hairs just start to fly about. I think it has something to do with the fact that my hairs would be curly left to their own devices. I use a brush and hairdryer to make them straight. They then wait and then when I’m out in public some of the hairs stage a mutiny, reverting back to their curly ways.
While I was in the salon I read a little article about which beauty regimens women are giving up in times of financial difficulty, and those they simply cannot live without. I chuckled to myself at the irony of my sitting in that chair having my hairs arranged as my bank account is gradually depleted to nearly nothing since I have given the government all my extra cash. Attempting some semblance of beauty through hair dressing is most certainly the beauty regimen I will not give up. My answer to that question is easy. No matter what, I always manage to get my hairs arranged.
Hair is a funny thing. I tend to be the sort who, either through thin finances or thin time and sometimes both, leaves my hair arranging for 8 to 10 weeks rather than the recommended 6 to 8. The result is that I usually arrive at the salon looking like a scruffy puppy. While it is not much fun to go through life looking and feeling scruffy, it is marvelous to come out of the hair salon feeling like I got a shiny new coat of wax or something. The feeling lasts for a couple of weeks after the arranging. Then it fades into the background until the scruffiness reminds me that I really ought to do something and stop scaring people with the way I look.