To cut-a da hair, require a grace, require da flare

Ten brownie points if you can name the musical that lyric comes from!

So, after growing my hair out for THREE years, with only the very occasional trim, I decided to chop it all off. But it occurred to me about a year ago that I should donate my hair to Locks of Love instead of just watching three years of hard work (my hair grows soooo slowly — it’s hard work, dang it!) get swept up and thrown in the trash.

Chris, the photographer at my office (check out his work here), took the “before” photo. Using a slave flash, a random orange wall in the back room of the building and a carefully hidden (and crouching) employee to backlight my nasty, skinny pony tail (can you tell my hair is super thin?). Chris took this photo:

Then I went and had my hair cut. At a salon. For the first time in three years. Suddenly I remember why people go to salons to get their hair cut instead of having family members do it: It’s a fun, relaxing way to spend a couple hours. And it was one of the best hair cuts I’ve ever had, perhaps excepting my hair cut in Egypt.* Not only did the owner of the salon cut my hair, she showed me how to get the most volume out of my thin little strands, which is just what I needed and have never gotten from another hair stylist. Did I mention they also gave me a mocha while I was there? Now that’s service! (Since I’m not in the advertising business I feel weird plugging the experience, but truly, it was wonderful and if you live in the Flathead Valley and need a full-service salon suggestion, go!).

There was a tense moment right before she cut my hair after measuring my pony tail (she actually took off 11 inches), but I got through it and I love my new look. It’s nice not to wear my hair in a bun like I have every day for the past year.

I hope some cute little kid enjoys my hair!

*I had my hair cut and colored in Egypt because I wanted to blend in more with short hair (read: stop attracting so much attention for being American and female). Anyway, I found this barber who let me look through books of hair styles, then vetoed — literally said no, that won’t look good — most of my choices. Turns out he was right and my hair cut was very cute if I do say so myself. Anyway, he also had his assistant give me a shampoo and head massage that I kid you not lasted at least 30 minutes. Ah, sweet bliss. Salons here should do that more.

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