Why is it that dogs never have bad hair days? That even the concept of a bad hair day is completely foreign to them?
In fact, every single one of them gets out of bed in the morning and NEVER gives a thought to having a bad hair day.
Which is something that I myself, almost never think about. Except for over the past 8 days. Which is how long it took this tuft of hair on the back of my head to grow out so that it wasn’t sticking up sideways out of an otherwise amazing hair cut.
Because I almost always have amazing hair cuts. Not that I’m one of those really vain women who goes around being “in your face” about her hair style. About the only times that I even THINK about my hair are 1) when it’s time to go back to my fabulous hair stylist so that she can do what she does best.
Which is to cut and style amazing hair cuts.
And, 2) right after my shower when I’m towel-drying my hair and searching for the wide tooth comb. Which my son ALWAYS borrows and then Never Returns It To Where It Belongs.
Naturally, the third and only other time that I am even remotely aware of my amazing hair cut is when someone says to me, “Who does your hair?”
At that moment, I am quietly smug and just a little bit over the moon because it took me quite a while – and some not-so-amazing-haircuts – before I found my fabulous hair stylist.
She Changed Things Up the last time I went to see her. Because I wanted to Change Things Up. It was time for a shorter cut. Something edgy and outside-the-box.
I showed her three or four looks that each had Something I Liked and then I sat back and let her do her thing.
Which is to create amazing hair cuts. And, she did just that.
She even took a small section of hair, near the back of my head and cut it so that it would stand up. Kind of spiky looking. It made its own small, edgy statement. And, I LOVED it.
Except for almost two weeks into having this amazing hair cut. That spiky looking part grew really fast. And, it started to do more than look spiky looking. More dorky than spiky.
And, there wasn’t anything that I could do about it. Except to Grin And Bear It. Really.
What would have been the point of doing anything else? “It’s only hair,” I told myself. “Lots of women have dorky hair cuts.”
When you stop to think that there are More Important Things going on in the world than what my hair looks like, for me to piss and moan about a tuft of hair on the back of my head …
that I couldn’t even SEE when I wasn’t standing in front of a mirror … seemed just a little ridiculous. And petty. And, not worth fussing about.
I couldn’t have looked THAT dorky because No One Else Said Anything. Not. A. Word.
Maybe they were being kind. But, truthfully? I don’t think they really gave a rat’s ass what my hair looked like!
But I did. And, I thought about it All The Time. Until just a few days ago. When it suddenly dawned on me that my dogs NEVER have bad hair days. The concept just isn’t in their DNA.
And, the more I thought about this, the better I felt. About me. And part of feeling better about me was realizing that my dorky looking haircut was a temporary thing.
That, since there was Nothing I could do about it, I should just Get Over It.
And, so I did. [gplus count=”true” size=”Medium” ]