An Emotional Experience

I don't know about any of you, but for me, getting a haircut is an emotional experience. I'm very attached to my hair (well, not just literally) and I don't like anyone cutting except my grandma. Well, visits to the Grandma Leos salon are getting to be fewer and fewer, especially with my new job- so I decided to go out on a limb. It was spur-of-the-moment, which is good because if I had much more time to think about it, I probably would've talked myself right on out of it. But I didn't! And I'm glad.

As soon as I walked into the salon and met Yvette (great name), I trusted her. Mostly because her hair looked fabulous, and also because when she said she could do my hair about three or four women said, "Oh, she's so good." She just gives off a good vibe, one that says, "You can trust me with your hair." (Don't judge- I love my locks!)

So anyway, off I went into the chair, with Yvette at the helm. Right away she said, "I think you'd look great with bangs."

Whoa there, missy.

I've had a love/hate relationship with bangs ever since I was little, usually more hate than love- and 90% of the time after the fact my hair would be pushed up in a headband. But there was Yvette, looking so...confident. So I said okay. And as she combed the hair into place, scissors poised, I winced a little inside- what if I hated it?

Snip, snip. Too late.

But as she whirled me around to look at my new 'do in the mirror, I took a moment to absorb and decided that I was happy! Yvette was right, she was wonderful, and my hair looked great. So now I'm sporting bangs. I feel like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada- not because I have a horrible job with the boss from you-know-where, but in that I have amazing hair after a fab makeover.

~VL~