Sunday Musings 12042022

When I was younger, I had a dog. She was a small terrier poodle, named C.J. She was named after Pamela Anderson’s character on Baywatch. More on Baywatch at a later time (fan club anyone?).

When I was about 12, I started asking if we could get a dog. We had had cats, but I really wanted a dog. I think most kids at that age do. My mom and I had gone shopping for something at Tractor Supply (as one does in the Midwest) and she bought me a book about taking care of puppies and dogs. The cashier asked us if we were looking and happened to have a new litter of puppies. That’s how we got C.J.

She was the best and lived to be 16! The thing about fluffy poodle dogs is that you need to get them groomed every six weeks. Every six weeks the groomer give C.J. a “puppy cut” and she would come home and strut around the house. Accepting, really demanding, compliments of how pretty she was.

There was one unfortunate time that the puppy cut didn’t work out. It was more of a buzz cut and C.J. came home and hid. No strut, just depression. It wasn’t until many hours later, when my dad came home, that the dog sheepishly showed her face. The distraught, the embarrassment. My dad spent a long time petting her and telling her it was okay, and how pretty she was. Only then did she come out of her funk.

Why do I bring this up? Well, friends… for the last several years I’ve come home from the salon with my own version of the bad puppy cut. I would spend hours at the salon (just for a cut and color) and come home disappointed.

At this point, you may be thinking that I’m a difficult client. Or maybe I should complain? I promise I’m very easy: no layers, trim, ashy-brown hair, no red… I tip well, I’m nice, I have pictures, examples… I’ve complained once – which made it worse. I have thin, unmanageable hair… I’ve been told I’m balding! I have fair, pink skin that doesn’t allow for red hair (I look like a lobster). The layers… I had a mullet for the last few years. Unintentionally, but someone will inevitably always cut layers. And the color – getting red after finally removing the red. Or lack of coverage on my little grey cluster.

I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and countless hours. But this last weekend, I made a split decision to cancel my existing appointment and switch salons. This was my last ditch effort. I went in an anxious anticipation and low expectations. All I wanted was to feel the strut.

My friends, it happened. I had my strut. No more mullet. No more red hair. No more greys. It’s a small win but it feels mighty.

This Sunday, I hope you find you strut.

Xo love kim

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