Haircut Metamorphasis

For months now I have been stewing over a change. You know that achy feeling you get down in your bones when you are ready for some sort of metamorphosis to occur? I was there and even though I knew this life shift required much more than a pair of sheers, a drastic haircut seemed a good place to start.

Now let's see... Should I go with the Kate Moss full bang? Maybe the Gwyneth Paltrow one length bob? Oooh. How about something sleek like Demi Moore? I couldn't decide. Lack of sleep was fueling my indecision and stalling my big change. That's it! I booked an appointment with my hairdresser. He'll know what to do.

Like we all know the universe works in mysterious ways! Ironically, just before my appointment, I was shopping and ran into a gorgeous older woman with effortlessly perfect hair! I couldn't stop staring at her! Really. She was that woman we all would love to be. She seemed so calm, happy, balanced, beautiful. It was driving me crazy! I went from staring, to scrutinizing, to assessing. Her outfit: of course perfect. Her persona: oozed confidence, power, and sex appeal. Her life: must be lovely. I was pretty sure she was starting to sense my obsession with her so I had to say something.

"Excuse me. I have to tell you. You have GREAT hair!". There. That should ease the growing stalker tension between us.

"Oh My Gosh! I have had my hair cut in almost every country around the world and still my hairdresser in Seattle is the best! I wouldn't go to any other person. You have to go see him! Here is my card with his name! Go! You will love him!"

Stunned by how crazy nice this woman was on top of all her other perfect attributes AND that she had traveled the world- which verified my whole model guesstimate AND that she had willingly and kindly given up her secret weapon to me, I was speechless. I graciously thanked her and walked off to the shoe department. Blank.

Wow! What just happened? Was that the universe agreeing with me that my hair needed a change? That a metamorphosis was building up steam and a good cut would propel this transition? Either way, I went home and called to see if he was even taking new clients and how soon I could get in. Go figure! Crazy! He had an opening the same day as my other appointment! I am never one to turn my head on obvious coincidences. So I threw my hesitations in the wind and booked it!

I am not sure WHY but going to the salon is like getting ready for a first date. Dust off those heels, bring out the jewelry, if your boobs are lucky a push-up bra, maybe even pre-wash your hair, as if that's necessary. It's a phenomena I can't help but succumb to myself as I suit up in my trendiest, prettiest non-mommy gear. I even heard my fleece whimper from separation anxiety as I threw it on the floor. As I began this distant yet vaguely familiar process of becoming a woman, I feel a small shift down in my bones. Final lipstick application, even lip gloss and I am ready. Huh. I clean up pretty well. Maybe I should TRY more often. With that thought, my husband walks in, checks me out (you know like they used to), compliments me, and tries to get frisky. Good. That means I am ready.

I get to the salon and it's as comfortable, beautiful, and effortless as the woman who recommended it! I meet this new magician in front of me and I know this is going to be a great hair date! He asks me to turn my head from side to side and tells me what he'd like to do. Short, sexy, movement, easy. It's as if he's describing a new version of me! Any other person chopping off seven inches probably would be nervous but in his hands I feel calmer, lighter, and taller. People are stopping to watch which makes me even more excited. I am ready for this cut. I am ready for this change! Le Fin. I look at myself and it's as if someone had teleported me into a more modern, beautiful, powerful version of myself. I tear up! Baby barf, fleece, and ponytails have been covering up this! I had forgotten. Here in this man's hands, I am reminded that I am more than a mother and wife. I am woman! I am a woman! She gets pushed aside so easily! Yet, it was her that caught my husband's eye and brought children to my life! She holds my power. She holds my potential! I really need to start treating her better!

As I get up from this geniuses' chair, I hear it. It starts slow and builds up volume and speed with each step. Bummm. Bumchicka. Bummchickabummmbummmmm. Holy Cow! It's my very own Ally McBeal theme music! Man do I feel good. Why the hell did I wait this long? I wish everyone could feel this way.

I open the salon door and walk onto 6th Ave. The wind blows my hair and all of a sudden I am the star of a Panteen commercial. Theme song playing, head turning, hair whipping, construction workers stop and take off their hard hats, birds are flapping around me, hot delivery guys on bikes run into cars, and every young girl stops and stares in envy. I am in hair heaven! I peruse some stores and every sales clerk was attentive, kind. Not the usual ignore I get when I walk in with ponytail and fleece. How can I hold onto this feeling?

I stop and stare at the reflection of this new me. I can see this metamorphosis beginning. I can feel myself trying to become it's best version. Better yet, I can feel myself allowing it to happen. I know this cut won't change the sleepless nights, the in-home dates, or the warranted hesitation to wear silk around my kids, but maybe just maybe it will give me the confidence to become the whole woman I yearn to be and reclaim the power I gave up when I covered her in fleece. As I head home excited to share this upgraded version of myself to my family, I think, huh, maybe there was some magic in those scissors after all!