DIANA REPUBLIC

Maybe I should have lied and said that I just got back from filming Survivor, Yemen or that I had been sequestered in the Big Brother house, but I didn’t. I just let the chips fall where they may as the receptionist checked and announced that I hadn’t had my hair cut or colored since October. “Every six months is normal, right?” I asked hoping for a laugh. It really couldn’t have been that big a surprise what with the three inches of my natural brown/grey hair at the roots. The stylists all looked aghast.

I have been going to the same stylist for about ten years, so this behavior is not really new to her. This was one of my longest stretches, but I have never been good at hair that required regular upkeep. I checked in from time to time for the occasional bang cut but only because they really wouldn’t be bangs anymore if I hadn’t. The downside of having gone to my stylist this long is that with her years of experience, her prices have risen. I suppose I could go to another stylist, but that at this point that would require a therapist and potentially an attorney. We’ve been through too much together: we have gone from renters to owners, single to married and now she is a mom.

So because one can’t cut and color one’s own hair (anymore) I had to wait until our domestic budget had an available surplus. Once I recovered from the scorn of the other stylists and had the averted the judgmental glances of the other patrons, I sat back and let my gal do her thing. And her thing is really transforming. The upside of waiting six months to have your hair cut and colored is that you leave feeling like you have just shot an episode of Extreme Makeover, Goat Herder.