The Haircut


This Monday it dawned on me that I had to start pulling my look together because Friday is the opening of the museum exhibit my quilt “The Cabbages Practice Their Do-Sa-Do” is in.

YIPES! So I arranged to get my haircut Tuesday. We all know this was a BAD idea. No matter how disheveled my hair was looking, I should know you NEVER get your hair cut the week something is happening. I missed the wave.

But undeterred, I went ahead anyway and now I have the world’s WORST haircut. It is unbelievable. I am still in shock.

The show opens tomorrow. What do I do? Find a large hat and go as a mysterious quilter? Afraid this isn’t in my nature. A wig? At this late stage? The only one I’d be able to get would probably be all blue or that wonderful mix of primary colors that is so popular on Halloween.

I should have monitored the hair cutter, I know I KNOW. She was, after all, about 12 years old (okay so maybe that’s a slight exaggeration). And she obviously thought I was an antique. Because she assumed I was retired. And she REALLY must have HATED how I was wearing my hair because her cut is going to mean it will be months, maybe YEARS, before I can wear my hair the way it was.

I am all for change, but within limits. Like looking good. That’s a big one for me. I will never be thin but I can still want to look okay.

Anyway I was in my hair salon zone – the one where I am trying to ignore the fact that I am the only person over the age of 25 in the place. I also have to insist on how I really don’t want to dye or tint my precious locks, which throws me off kilter and keeps me from paying attention to other things. I figure my hair has enough problems without my adding to them. And anyway I am going grey the way my Mom did which not only looked nice to me but also gives me a rare pleasant sense of her.

SOOOOO I was zoning out and not paying attention to what Ms deFarge was doing. (Madame deFarge was the character in Dicken’s A Tale of Two Cities who sat knitting during the daily guillotine sessions of the French Revolution.)

NEVER ignore what your hair dresser is doing. NEVER.

I used to have a wonderful hair stylist. Back East, before we moved out here. It was harder to leave her than it was to leave most of my friends. THEY couldn’t cut hair. SHE always made me look okay.

I am considering staying inside for a couple of months. Not an option really. The weather has been gorgeous. I don’t want to miss it. But ARGH!!

Tomorrow is the opening night reception. I will certainly look different. Memorable, even. Perhaps I will match my wild and crazy quilt. Maybe I can decide that THAT was the plan all along. It’s intentional. One wild and crazy quilter with weird hair. I hope I can get this to work for me.