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Going on a last-minute trip makes it difficult to complete the long list of tasks needing to be completed. First, I need to arrange care for Meatball with my neighbor, then I need to arrange to have my mail held during my absence, definitely clean out my refrigerator and shop for some needed new things - priority on the shopping. Last night I looked through my closet in an attempt to make do with some of the clothes and accessories I already have, but that was a bust. A shopping trip for more than just a swimsuit is definitely in order. Feeling overwhelmed, making a list of each task to cross out as I go eases some of the anxiety I’m feeling.
Now, here at the mall, I decide to splurge a bit. Not only do I find a new swimsuit, but I find a cute cover-up and flip flops that coordinate nicely. I also find the cute sun hat I pictured myself wearing on the beach, some new lace up sandals, sunglasses, a beach towel and a few sundresses too.
Shopping bag in hand and not feeling any purchase regret – at least not yet - I near the trendy hair salon I’ve always been curious about and this time instead of continuing on my way, I go inside on a whim. There’s a tall, black granite front desk situated immediately through their doors and a large glass wall behind it with water falling down. Salon chairs are located behind the wall and the sounds of chatter and running blow dryers meet my ears while the chemicals in the air make my nose tingle. A blonde woman smiles at me and holds up one finger indicating that I should wait a moment. There are several glass shelves on either side of the salon full of bottle after bottle of hair care products. I wonder how long it would take someone to try each one?
“Hi there! Welcome to Francesca’s Salon and Spa. How can I help you?”
The woman’s nametag says Rachel and she beckons me forward. “Hi, I know it’s a long shot, but I was walking by and thought I’d take a chance and see if there are any openings to get my hair done.”
“What services were you wanting to receive?”
“A cut, color and style if there’s time available. If not, just a cut and style is fine.”
She types on the computer and clicks around a bit, “It’s your lucky day! That phone call was a very last minute cancellation and it looks like that time slot will work perfectly for all you’d like to do. You’ll be seeing Sarah; she’s one of our best master stylists. If you can spare time right now, the spot is yours.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
Before I know it I’m sitting in the stylist chair, black cape in place, with my new hairdresser friend Sarah combing through my hair and asking me what I’d like done.
My hair has been long for a few years now. I like it long and down my back - always have. I was blessed with full hair that’s not too thin but not too thick either. But, I’m ready for a change. I answer out loud, partly still processing my thoughts. “I think I’d like something different. To cut more off than I usually prefer.” My words partly shock me. I must really be feeling brave trusting a new hairdresser to do this, but what the hell? Looking at myself in the mirror I grin when I show her where I’d like my hair to land. Plus, my hair has been a dirty blonde for a while with some highlights; I think I’d like to lighten it up even more. When I’ve finished talking I tentatively ask, “Can we do that?”
“We can,” she combs through my hair some more. “Let’s discuss the cut.”
She gives me some various suggestions and once I’ve decided, she pauses, “You know, we’re going to cut off enough hair that there’d be enough inches to donate it.”
“Donate it?” My voice catches in my throat.
“Yes. One donation place doesn’t like to take color treated hair like yours and the inch requirement is quite long, but there are plenty of other places that will take color treated hair of less inches. Would that be okay?”
Images of women, like my mother, that have lost their hair due to chemotherapy treatments pop into my head. I remember a woman that was always at chemotherapy with my mom. Her name was Sharon. She had a different wig each time we saw her. I loved it and complimented her wondering how many in total she had. She enjoyed showing off her new acquisitions. “Yes,” I nod feeling my throat tighten and voice tremble with emotion. “I’d like to do that very much.”
“Great! Let me go back and mix some color. I’m going to dry cut you to take the donation length off when I return before I put the color on. In the mean time, can I get you a magazine? Something to drink – cucumber water, juice, a soft drink?”
“No, thank you,” I tell her and instead take out my phone and pull up my reading app intending to lose myself in a new romantic comedy that looks promising. I’m a sucker for a good book.
A few hours later, my hair is shorter and quite lighter. “Wow, this color looks great on you. Makes your eyes pop!” Sarah holds up a mirror for me to admire the back of my hair from all angles. She suggested and I readily agreed for her to add some layers and give me a side bang. It looks nice and has shape to it. It’s a cut with a sassy personality now as opposed to just one layer of boring sag like I had before.
“I love it, thank you so much,” I smile ear to ear.
“You’re welcome, doll.”
Leaving the salon I laugh at myself as I realize I’m holding my head a little higher. It’s funny what a difference something as simple as a great haircut can do for one’s attitude. Clearly, I’m feeling good about myself right now. I like it.
Popping into one of my favorite stores, I browse and covet several dresses and outfits and select a few to try on. It’s when I’m walking to the dressing room to try them on that a bikini catches my attention. It’s black with teal polka dots. Sure, it’s a bit skimpier than the one I wore when I was younger, but how can I resist it after Oliver’s comment the other day? Smiling to myself, I grab it and take it with me to the dressing room feeling ridiculously excited as I imagine the look on his face when he sees it.
The dresses all fit perfectly which makes the decision about which ones to purchase difficult, but I decide on a spaghetti strapped white sundress that hits just above my knees. The best part is the eyelet detail all along the bottom. The second has spaghetti straps as well but is a maxi dress that falls to my feet. It’s teal, which means if I get some color it will look gorgeous against my tan skin. The top and bottom has what looks like water colored print feathers that are large and pressed into the fabric in colors of fuchsia, sea blue and white. The low plunge makes my breasts look nice which angers me slightly – I feel like the traitorous things don’t have the right. Turning away from the mirror, I slip the dress off and try on the bikini. It looks good, really good. It’s pretty skimpy, but not at all indecent. I don’t feel uncomfortable and did I mention I look good? I actually laugh out loud as I try to convince myself and do a little twirl in front of the mirror. “You’re not looking half bad either,” I tell my butt and laugh more.
“How’s it going in there?” The sales lady startles me and I feel a little embarrassed knowing she probably heard me talking to myself. Oh well.
“It’s great, thank you.”
“I saw the cute bikini you grabbed. Did you see the sheer black cover up hanging next to it? They would look great together.”
“No, I didn’t.” Of course she already has it in her hand and offers it to me over the top of the door. I try it on over the top of the suit. Closing my eyes I can picture myself walking along the shore wearing this. I wonder what the sand will feel like between my toes. Is the ocean really as blue as pictures make it look? Will the sunset be just as magnificent as what I’ve seen in shows, magazines and on TV? I can’t believe I’m going to get to find out. The cover up gets added to the pile and before I check out I also grab a few pieces of jewelry that are cute as well.
Shopping bags in tow I have a huge smile on my face as I swing them at my sides intending to get something to eat from the food court. All this shopping has made me hungry.
I’m almost there when a gentleman standing next to a kiosk in the middle of the mall approaches me with a pump of something in his hand? “May I?” he asks.
