Going to the hairdresser

Hairdresser day again today.  I am so schizophrenic about this.  I hate the conversations about whether I have been on holiday.  I hate sitting there and looking at myself for ages and thinking how old/tired/cross I look and the whole thing of being in front of a mirror for so long.  When did my neck go?  I am sure it was there last time I looked.  I hate the  amount of time it takes when I could be doing something else.  It has got even worse now as I can't even read all the time because they keep asking me to take my glasses off.

But I love seeing the colour come up bright and shiny.  I like the way a good cut produces something which practically looks after itself and which doesn't mind the fact that I am cackhanded with a hairdrier.  I like being blowdried by someone who really knows how to do it and coming out with my hair all swingy.  And I do like the sense of keeping in touch with my professional self somehow.  In a life which is lived now in jeans and t shirts, with dirty fingernails from the garden the norm and lipstick a rare indulgence, having my hair cut in the way I always have makes me feel like me again.

How about you?