I don't quote Oprah.
I'm not one of her disciples.
I don't even watch her show, anymore.
So please don't go getting your bloomers up in a wad over what I'm about to say...
...drumroll please....
I heard Oprah Winfrey give a word of advice one time that I try to live by.
Paraphrased, Oprah once said women should change their hairstyles every year. Even if it's just a small variation...wear it a little shorter, let it grow a little longer, add some layers, brighten the color. Just change it up a bit.
I try to do that. Change my hair up a little bit every year or so.
Earlier this week I went to see my good friend and hairdresser Gequetta (No, she's not black. Yes, she's white. Yes, she's lived on Sand Mountain her whole life, but no, her parents have not.) I purposefully got to the salon early so that I could peruse the hairstyle magazines. As I flipped the pages of one magazine after another, examining each photo of the hottest and trendiest do's, I found myself saying, "I've had that. I've done that. That one's ridiculous. I've already had that one. I've done that one twice...." I hated everything in the magazines. There was nothing new in there.
I realized that the metaphorical bubble of my youth has burst. Styles I wore years ago are coming back. I've always heard that would happen but I never thought it would happen to me. I'm young. Surely, it's not time to recycle my generation's fads and fashions.
Today I splurged on a manicure. When I wrote my check to pay, the little Vietnamese lady who did the manicure checked my identification, clearly studying the information thereon, and commented with a quick "hum."
Me: Hum? What's wrong?
Her: You '74. Me '75.
Well, how in the world am I supposed to respond to that?
And so the mental dialog began. What in the world was she trying to say? She can't believe she's almost as old as me? She's wondering how I stay looking so young? She thought I was as old as her mother? She thinks my crow's feet are deeper than hers? What? Just say it, little girl!
I can't believe I was so baffled, and furthermore, I can't believe I'm writing about it.
But I am.
And I. Am. Over. It.
Really, I am.
Sigh...
Goodnight everyone.
I need my beauty sleep:)
3 comments:
oh man! I could write a book about the nail salon people. I don't get mani's or pedi's often....unless I'm expecting. Then it's usually just a pedicure. Those little women and all their questions...grr! They range from "when you due? 2 weeks?"
"uh no. I just happened to start out at more than 85 pounds"
To:
"Wow. How many baby you have?"
(and the ages...blah blah)
"Oh. you start late. how old are you?"
"33"
"ohhh....then a bunch of vietnamese chattering with their peeps"
I'm thinking they don't realize how much damage my old, large, not as pregnant as they think I look self could do with my old, large feet to their scrawny little 85 pound self.
you know, IF I were violent....
or bitter.
spot on, sister!
welcome to our world! If we are around long enough everything repeats it self somehow. See Eccl. chapter one "there is nothing new under the sun". Wise man in some ways till he became old and listened to his many wives.
It's kind of fun so to see things show up again after 30 + years. I just can't wear that repeated style anymore, put on a few pounds and certain things just are no longer becoming.
Wait till those who want tatoos so bad they get them and at age say 40 "why did I do that?" The older the tatoo the worse it looks. My 40 yr old daughter recently remarked. Her kids even asked "Mom why did you do that?" Her's is a very small rose at the ankle.
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