I am woman, hear me...

I should be writing about something spiritual or uplifting. Some act of kindness I witnessed or an insight gained. I should take this time, on this fabulous Monday, to better the world. I really should.

Instead I am going to write about my haircut. Is there anything more magical, more relieving, more woman making than 45 minutes in a salon chair? (ok, probably. But let's pretend the answer is no...just for the sake of my happy post haircut mood.) I always wait too long in between cuts. By my appointment, drastic measures had been taken. Bobby pins, headbands, clips....all stuck together, the last defense against the beast my hair had become. Every woman needs a dress with good twirl, red lipstick and a hairstylist/confidant. I have the dress, the lipstick and Danine. (find her here!) She is a miracle worker, a slayer of ugly, the best, the brightest, the perfect.

I L.O.V.E. love her.

It may seem frivolous. This haircut bliss in a world that aches. Spending (grocery!) money on something that I could have lived without. Women are well acquainted with that peculiar ache that can accompany life on earth. We bear and raise babies, sometimes losing them along the way. We see what life could be and are too hard on themselves when reality just isn't quite what was envisioned. We cry, pray and act for those that are hurt, alone, in need. Women create homes for our men and children, dream their dreams and hurt their hurts. We change the course of history one dinner at a time, even when that dinner is burnt chicken...again. Once in a while, in the midst of all that world changing, we get tired. We are mother, wife, confidant and friend. Sometimes, we need a little boost, a little reminder that we are also, women! Feminine, lovely, soft and hella sexy.

The visit with the magical Danine was just the reminder this (faux) red head needed. I am a woman! Oh my goodness. That means there is nothing that I cannot do.

This pixie/bob cut fusion and I are ready to conquer the world, one dinner, one diaper change, one scraped knee at a time.

I tried to take a few pictures that showed, you know, my face. They were, ummmm, less than excellent. No biggie. I look pretty good from the back, too. Wink.