New Do (Don't)

I have had very bad luck with hair dressers since moving from the States to Europe and now the UK. I don't quite understand it, but I always get a great hair cut and stellar color in the States, and I never go to the same place twice, but across the pond is a different story.

When we lived in Zurich, I went once to a posh hair salon and the results were very good-- not better than I get in the States, but way better than I had previously received in Switzerland. The price was remarkable, as well; Including the bottle of shampoo I bought the bill totalled $450. As I said, I only went to that salon once.

So, it was with great reservations that I looked for a new hair salon here in England. I asked my friend Suzy where she went to get her hair done. Suzy is an American and gets about the same amount of artificial color painted onto her tresses as I do, so I figured if it looked good on her, it would probably work on me, too.

I called and was able to get in the same day for the color, but would have to come back the following day for the cut-- no problem. My hair had gotten to the point where I looked as if I had taken up residence at the Blackpool Trailer Park, I was willing to travel anywhere as many times as necessary to fix it.

Yesterday was the color and it turned out great-- better than anything I have had yet in the past six years. I walked, no, I skipped out of the salon, happy.

Today was the cut...

I showed the cutting lady (because she was a different lady from the coloring lady) a picture of Heidi Klum-- okay YES, a stretch, but her hair was what I was after. Sleek, shoulder-length golden hair with a sweep of fringe (bangs) seductively hanging off to the right, sort of covering one eye, if you will.

Two hours later, really two hours, I looked in the mirror and saw... Martha Stewart-- on the day she was released from prison.
'Do you like it?' Cutting lady asked. 'NO!!!' was all I could scream in my head, but what could she going to do about it now? So I smiled and nodded and said, 'Yes, it's cute. Thanks.'
I even tipped her (which is not expected here).

At the cash register a well groomed woman wearing all black rushed over to me and handed me a card with beauty treatments listed on it. 'For the next month, we are offering facials for more mature skin one third off!' I smiled, nodded and even said, 'thanks', but didn't tip her.

I walked to the little girls pre-school. On my way I passed an American woman I don't really know, but see around. 'Hey, cute hair cut! You look like Martha Stewart!' She shouted over her shouldr at me. I smiled, nodded and shouted back 'thanks' (didn't tip her, either).

At home Claire, my oldest said, 'Mama, I know now who you look like! A cross between Melissa Ethridge and Ellen Degeneres!' she enthused.

I was sliding backwards; one rung down from jail-bird era Martha on to the dueling icons of lesbian celebrity.

After swimming lessons that evening, as I was getting the twins in the car, Tess said to me, 'Mama, during my class I looked at you and thought you were a granny.'

Hair grows, right?