HAIR TODAY; GONE TOMORROW

Hair today; gone tomorrow.

Tonight I get my hair cut -- all of it -- yet again.  I really prefer it shorter, as long as I can get to the mirror and put on some make-up before I put on my glasses.  That way when I look in the mirror, I see myself and not my mother.

I usually go to the salon with my daughter, and tonight is no exception.  She is getting her hair foiled and lightened, and I'm getting mine dyed and cut.  Her hair comes out fabulous; mine is lovely but pales in comparison to the spectacular effect of her shading and color.  (At least, that's what my brain tells me.)

Or, it could be the wine.  We have been sipping a red blend  since we arrived fifteen minutes early to the salon, and our appointments end up running about three hours.  This means that the wine finishes the same time we do.  While her hair (still attached to her head) is under the dryer, my hair scatters on the floor.  I am firmly holding a plastic pseudo-wine-glass in my hand.

In other words, it is another successful outing to the salon.