Are your resolutions for 2018 proactive or reactionary?
My number one resolution is proactive:
Submit some writing to Chicken Soup for the Soul. I should have started on that one earlier, their deadlines are all in January. So I now have a reactionary amendment to get that submission done in another week.
Today's haircut resulted in reactionary resolutions.
#2 Only go to hair stylists that speak English.
#3 Don't get cheap haircuts.
My neighborhood is multilingual. Within a short walk from my apartment is a salon and it fits my tight budget.
My last haircut at the Mambo Salon de Belleza was good. Friends complimented it. Even my kids and grandkids liked it.
Today I had my second appointment. Using my best Spanish, and English, I explained what I liked about the first cut, and minor adjustments I’d like Isabel to make for today.
Apparently my Spanish was lacking, because Isabel double checked with the owner to make sure she understood what I wanted. I should have double checked with the owner to make sure she understood my English.
Some devilish imp must have whispered distortions into Isabel’s ear. The parts I wanted longer were all less than before. The top that I wanted slightly shorter got trimmed on one side of the part and cut to nothing on the other. When the owner asked if I wanted layers, I said yes, not knowing that meant razoring to within micrometers of my scalp. The grey under-layer is exposed, and the fading brown on top makes me look like an undercooked muffin.
I should have insisted I face the mirror while she worked. Then I could have called for help while there was still something to salvage.
As it was, my husband snickered when I came in the door. Without a trace of sympathy he said I got scalped. He said he didn’t expect me to go to church on Sunday where everyone knows me because they'll either have to lie about my shorn head or lie and pretend they don’t see any change. Still chuckling, he said he loved me no matter what.
He asked if I’d go back. I don’t know if it’s worse to go back or face the embarrassment of getting it fixed in an upscale salon. I won't need to make that decision for a long time.
It can’t grow fast enough to make me happy. In the meantime, I grabbed my new beret out of the closet and pulled it down like the cap on a mushroom. If I leave the scanty forelock hanging out I don't look bald.
I remember when my five year old sister cut her bangs to a ragged fraction of an inch. She wore a cowboy hat for hours before we asked what she was hiding. If the weather stays chilly no one will question my constant hat.
My daughter laughed because her mother-in-law did exactly the same thing. She said we both need to stick to English speaking stylists. And that cutting costs on haircuts just leaves you with a mistake everyone can see.
So far my resolutions are reactionary rather than proactive. I hope this isn’t a pattern.
How about yours?