I'll admit I was crushed when, the day before I was due to get my every 6-8 week highlight job, they closed the hair salons. How long would it be, I wondered, before I could get my touch up? I bought an at home bridge dye kit from my beloved hair stylist and still haven't taken the time to learn how to use it. I watched my beautifully manicured toes slowly deteriorate. Now all that's left is a couple of spots on my big toes - the rest are au naturel with my distinctly bad hurried nail clip job. I had stopped drying my hair a couple of months earlier and was reminded of how much time this saves me and my curls come out when I am not violently taming them with my Dyson hair dryer. I thought of Linda Hamilton. Not from the first Terminator, the one I saw in the theater with my Dad when it came out but the new, aged, experienced version of Linda - the one where she is in her 60's and her roots are grey and she is beset with substance abuse issues from her traumatic past but is still a righteous badass.
Would that version of me give a crap if my toes looked like they do? If my brown roots are nearing two inches, rendering my dirty blond hair much dirtier? Hell no. All those random bruises and cuts I get from bumping into things - I'm a klutz - suddenly took on a new, cooler significance. I imagined them being battle scars from fighting the evil empire over all this Covid testing - keeping the false Gods with their promise of accuracy hiding their lies and desires to make money off of this pandemic at bay. I started to show them off, be less insecure about having them. Abandoned the desire to get those roots touched up with my at home kit. Also the desire to do my own pedicure - that can wait, shouldn't be too much longer now.
I scheduled a hair appointment today for June 11 - first available that works for both myself and Deidre. I cannot wait to see her - our relationship spans about 17 years and we have become almost like armchair therapists to each other over the years. In the meantime, I'm going to embrace those roots - even Deidre texted me that roots are actually in now. I'm not going to worry about that strange piece of white that is on the cherry red polish left on my left big toe. I have wondered what it is (White out? Caulk? - None of those make sense really) and tried to pick it off to no avail. It no longer seems important, thank goodness. I see a future full of scrubs and roots and not perfect pedi's looking actually much cooler than someone who is perfectly coiffed (although it is fun to dress up sometimes and I will continue to do so if it works for me). Back to 90's grunge, with a lot more experience and know how.
Happy Monday! It's been a while. As I teach my kids, sometimes you have to put on your own oxygen mask first in order to be your best self to others. And if that best self can look shabby on the outside, it doesn't matter, because she shines on the inside. Much love, E
*cross posted at my own blog, Methodical Madness