First off, apologies for the worst title pun I have come up with yet...it's a Monday, what can I say?

Not just any Monday either, tonight was my much dreaded bi-monthly haircut. I’m not sure why it is...I love to go to C.O. Bigelow or Kiehl’s and load up with smelly, gunky treats...but the thought of getting my hair cut is about as appealing as a visit to the dentist. The time had come though and I was starting to resemble one of those shaggy Old English Sheepdogs so I dutifully made the appointment and braved the cold weather.

I should say that my feelings have nothing to do with the hairdresser. My current cutter is Italian, realizes that my lack of conversation isn’t personal, and kisses my head when he’s done...things could be worse. Side note – I’m not a chatty person during all this...when someone’s wielding scissors or standing behind a blowdryer I just don’t feel the urge to strike up a conversation...I just close my eyes (hope for the best) and move my head whichever direction it is nudged...this silence can be too successful though, a former hairdresser told a friend of mine that I was the only person she’d ever known who fell asleep in the chair...

But back to this evening, the snipping and drying was over...I opened my eyes...looked in the mirror...and realized, I look like a blonde Emily Strange but, you know, things could be worse...