First steps

Since I made the decision to do something with the tangle atop my head, I've gotten rather antsy and impatient about doing it. It's needs to be gone already. The color shampoo and special conditioner and having to condition every single freakin' day and the four different styling products and the 15 minutes wasted every morning need to be gone. I need high style with low maintenance. I'm not asking for much, right?

The only thing is, I have no stylist. Which is probably one of the largest cons of leaving the soul-sucking cesspool that was my last job. (Sad that having to find a new stylist is a factor, but there it is.)

There are things in life that all women dread. One of them is shopping for bras. I would rather clean toilets than shop for bras. Bra shopping is torture. It's inhumane, really.

Another thing is finding a new stylist. I mean, it's your hair...something everyone sees every single day. It's not like that questionable skirt that you can tuck into the back of the closet until you lose weight or it comes back in style or both. It's bad to shell out fifty bucks on a haircut that you hate, and then have to wait for a month or two while it grows out before you can fix it. And the stylist/client relationship is important. You want it to feel like a treat when you visit your stylist (especially if you're shelling out fifty bucks for a haircut). I got some of the best haircuts of my life from a teeny tiny Korean woman but after five appointments of not understanding a damn thing she said, I gave up and went elsewhere.

When I need a new stylist, I usually look around and find women who have hairstyles I like, and then ask them for a recommendation. So that was my first step yesterday. I called the assistant principal of Zoe's school (who has awesome hair) to ask her. Only, she's out of the office until next week. No freakin' way am I waiting a whole other week to get a name, and then probably another week or two to get in with the stylist. I'll shave it myself before I do that.

(I am not known for patience.) (Obviously.)

Second step: call the salon just down the street from my house where my MIL found a nice, new stylist. They're closed on Mondays. At this point I am so ready to do something with my hair that I am not willing to wait even a day.

Third step: call a salon nearby that Zoe's BFF's mom talked about. I googled them and found a stylist who looks nice and approachable and has an art degree from Wash U. and short hair (which means she gets short hair) and who I am reasonably sure can give me the funky, stylish cut I crave.

Tomorrow night at 6:30 I start reclaiming my physical identity. Well, I suppose I started that already with the eating and exercise thing...but there's no physical proof of that. Yet.

Beano reminded me yesterday that all the things about which I am unhappy can, thankfully, be changed. She's totally right. I hate it when my little sister is right, but she is in this case and so I must be thankful that I am healthy and capable of change.

Onward!

(Need help from you foodies out there...we're having our office lunch today at a Vietnamese restaurant. What's reasonably healthy? I figure I'll stick with veggies, but sometimes the sauces can kill ya. Any recommendations?)