Finding my 'own'
One bad thing about moving a lot is trying to find places to make "MY OWN":
"MY" mechanic
"MY" favorite lunch place
"MY" gas station
"MY" dentist/orthodontist
"My" hair salon ...the list is endless.
I'm a very loyal customer. So, once I find my "peeps", so to speak, I refer to them as mine. "I'm on the way to my hairdresser" or "I have an appointment Thursday at my dentist/orthodontist."
Last night as I was brusing my teeth .... I glanced in the enormous bathroom mirror. I sighed, noticing the inch-long-very-light-but-dark-enough-for-me-to-cringe roots. Yes yes. My name is LAMMY and I'm a Color-er. I color my hair. Satisfied? Well, that's not the worst of it.... Upon closer examination.... I have much more GRAY HAIR peaking out of my natural color, than I realized I had. Once I see a problem area on myself (which is frequently), I can never let it just be. I lifted a section of hair and discovered even MORE than I expected. Every section I checked boasted my age, in a hateful, hurtful way. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN!? How did I miss it?! Oh yeh. While I was in Germany, I went to my hair-guy every 6 weeks...he worked wonders. Taught me. Schooled me in the right thing for my hair and body type. Did a great color job. *heavy sigh* I looked around at people's hair at church, you know--to see who had hair that worked. I only found one that I didn't hate...but she doesn't color...and has grown it long. *sigh* I am nearly desperate enough to thumb through the phonebook for ads that look the least like "HEY-TRY-ME-AS -I -JUST- GRADUATED -FROM- HAIR- SCHOOL- AND- TRYING- TO- GET- A- BREAK". I'm not there yet, but nearly.
*shudder*
"Gray hair is God's Graffiti" ~~Bill Cosby
"MY" mechanic
"MY" favorite lunch place
"MY" gas station
"MY" dentist/orthodontist
"My" hair salon ...the list is endless.
I'm a very loyal customer. So, once I find my "peeps", so to speak, I refer to them as mine. "I'm on the way to my hairdresser" or "I have an appointment Thursday at my dentist/orthodontist."
Last night as I was brusing my teeth .... I glanced in the enormous bathroom mirror. I sighed, noticing the inch-long-very-light-but-dark-enough-for-me-to-cringe roots. Yes yes. My name is LAMMY and I'm a Color-er. I color my hair. Satisfied? Well, that's not the worst of it.... Upon closer examination.... I have much more GRAY HAIR peaking out of my natural color, than I realized I had. Once I see a problem area on myself (which is frequently), I can never let it just be. I lifted a section of hair and discovered even MORE than I expected. Every section I checked boasted my age, in a hateful, hurtful way. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN!? How did I miss it?! Oh yeh. While I was in Germany, I went to my hair-guy every 6 weeks...he worked wonders. Taught me. Schooled me in the right thing for my hair and body type. Did a great color job. *heavy sigh* I looked around at people's hair at church, you know--to see who had hair that worked. I only found one that I didn't hate...but she doesn't color...and has grown it long. *sigh* I am nearly desperate enough to thumb through the phonebook for ads that look the least like "HEY-TRY-ME-AS -I -JUST- GRADUATED -FROM- HAIR- SCHOOL- AND- TRYING- TO- GET- A- BREAK". I'm not there yet, but nearly.
*shudder*
"Gray hair is God's Graffiti" ~~Bill Cosby
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