Braveheart Cut My Hair

Actually, Francesca provided the haircut. And while not in costume, she did have blue hair. 

Braveheart swept up the pieces and brought me wine and massaged my hands.  Frankenberry attended to the shampoo.

I freakin' love Austin on Halloween.

A Peeping Tom ran the front desk.  She was wearing a plaid shirt, had a little moustache, and held up a big cardboard window to her face.  Awesome.

What a fun town.  I forgive our office now for not getting into the spirit of things, because the Aveda salon on Burnet more than made up for it.  And not just by wearing costumes.

They really did just a bang-up job of making me feel relaxed and, well, pretty.  It struck me again as they refused my tip (Aveda salon practices, I had forgotten) that I could really keep on not spending money on clothes and instead occassionally splurge on things like a really sweet haircut.  Especially when the Scottish clans(wo)man, kind face painted blue and white under that crazy wig, asks if I want red wine for my second complimentary beverage. While she gives me a complimentary hand massage.  And tells me I have nice hair. 

What is it about going to the salon?  Does everybody have this experience?  They not only transform your whole look with a few snips and a great shampoo, but they shower you with compliments so you float out of there feeling like a million bucks. 

I think that's the feeling I used to get sometimes with a new outfit, so maybe I'm cheating by finding my fix through other means.  You know, like alcoholics getting into cough syrup or something.

I've been thinking a lot about why shopping and buying clothes is so desireable, and I think I'm narrowing it down.  I know I miss the variety for sure, but I think it's a little bit of the promise of getting to be new and fresh.  Like the feeling of a new haircut.

Example: I've been wanting leggings for awhile now, and then yesterday just wore my workout tights under a skirt and boots. There. Leggings. Warm, comfy, and just a little bit fun all day long because...it was a new look. Not new clothes, but still gave me the new clothes feeling.

Like a new haircut, or a Halloween costume, it's almost a little taste of getting to play out a fantasy. Weren't we all a princess at some point when we were kids?  I announced to my mom once that my new name was Wonder Woman...or was it She-Ra, Princess of Power? Evidently it didn't stick.

I guess I feel really introspective about this because I can see the end of this experiment now and feel like I ought to have a whole lot of wisdom to offer for it.  Or at least an Oprah book deal. And definitely a plan for what's next.

But the truth is I'm not really sure yet, and I don't feel like I'm super wise or very much better of a person for all of this. Eh. Two more months to go, so I'll think on it a little more!

So barring some sort of great sweeping statement here, I'll just say that I'm very thankful for Francesca's work.  And for Braveheart's sweet pampering, and for the Peeping Tom being so kind about my trying to tip them. I'll say that I really appreciate all the adorable kids on our street and their excited, beaming faces from under their masks, hats, and other costume paraphanalia.

And I'm a little nervous. Brendon and I leave for our honeymoon today, and this could be the biggest challenge in the whole experiment. How does one go to Argentina/Brazil/Uruguay and not buy? Yeah, I have the new haircut feeling, I'm lucky to have the amazing Brendon at my side, I'm so thankful to take this trip.

I acknowledge all of that as a mature, poised woman.

But do you hear the siren call of the leather goods?

I do. Ruh roh.