The mystery of the Silver Scissors

Not really, when I was younger and gave up playing hockey in favour of ice-skating classes we used to drive past the 'silver scissors hair salon' every Saturday morning on the way to skating classes. and thus ends the mystery. The true enigma though is the way that my hair can transform completely, with no help from me at all!

The scenario is this: You go to get a haircut, for whatever reason. I have a LOT of hair so it's usually when the thinning from the last cut has grown out and I end up looking like a season 1 X-files character :

Until I give up on styling and just try to tie it back which results in another x-files impression (fortunately my clothes are generally NOT made out of old lace curtains):

(photos from here and here).

Eventually, in terror of ending up like this:

I book a hair appointment.

I love going to the hairdresser! You get your hair washed for you 9the ultimate in pamperage I think) and if I go to the right place I get a scalp massage as well that leaves me very happy wth life and so relaxed I can't stand up without wobbling slightly. And then the stylist asks what you want.

There are two possible answers to this questions. I tend to alternate between option 1:

"I want a (insert type here) cut with (insert specifics) and make sure that if I dry it (insert dream styling method of minimal effort) way then (insert ideal style) will happen. And make sure when you (insert style - layer, feather, fluff or whatever) that you avoid the small family of black widow spiders living behind my left ear!*** Ok thanks, I'm going to read my magazine now!"

and of course option 2:

"You are a stylist, which means I trust you around my head with a pair of scissors. Make me pretty! "

Now that Joey's husband's sister's husband's aunt is out of the question I went back to the lady I used to have cut my hair. I generally let her do whatever she wants, and if I give her direct instructions she has been known to refuse (and while I appreciate her stopping me from getting a fringe, or a mohawk (not that I've asked, but I'm pretty sure she would draw the line at shaving my head)) and do something that actually suits me, I was in a giving instructions mood.

Besides, she refused to dye my hair blue, and I really loved having blue hair!

So anyway they cut and trim and use the scary thinning scissors (they scared me so much I screamed "WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" the first time when she put the scissors right next to my scalp. And eventually they finish and you leave feelng all pretty - enough so that you might even skip a day or two of gym just to avoid sweating and having to wash it any sooner than is absolutely necessary.

Eventually you wash it and style it and voila: you gone from this:

straight back to this:

No effort required!

Is it a miracle? What's te word for a bad miracle? Maybe it's karma getting me back for all those years I didn't check if my shampoo had been tested on animals.

***(for the record there are no spiders, just wanted to make sure you were paying attention)

Oh, and if you want a good giggle check this out.