Hairdressers are a girl’s best friend.
As are makeup artists.
Say what? You thought it was diamonds? Oh nooooo. Diamonds have absolutely no resale value. Trust me. I’ve been trying to hock my diamond wedding ring for nine years now and can’t even get a bite on 50% of the appraised value. Whatever. Future boyfriends pay attention: You can woo me better with a great visit to a salon or money for clothes and shoes. Not purses though.
Yesterday, my oldest daughter, Cindy and I had a girl’s afternoon out. Sort of a pre-Mother’s day, pre-My Birthday afternoon. Her husband babysat the boys, and she and I headed for Gene Juarez. I recently lamented about having a bad haircut from a local stylist on this blog post here. Since my roots were becoming borderline trashy and I was looking and feeling decidedly frumpy, and my daughter also felt the same, we decided it was time to take that upcoming income tax stimulus payment and treat ourselves.
And I’m so glad we did. We had a delightful afternoon. Although the entire time at the salon we couldn’t see each other because we were with different stylists, it sure was fun when we were done to see how our “makeover” turned out.
Here’s Cindy and me before taken in the car before we got out:
Before you see our “after” pictures I have to tell you about Awkward Moment Number One. After we got done at the hair salon, we decided we would go to the Mac counter at Nordstroms and Cindy could get her makeup done. There’s nothing that can make a young woman who just had a baby feel better than pretty hair and all new makeup. So we wandered over there and as we turned the corner, guess who was standing at the makeup counter and looked right at me? Yup. Bad Local Salon Hairstylist. Uh, HI! I waved, and clearly she knew I’d had my hair done. Can we say awkward? The color is exquisite, the style fresh and young, and I was walking about three inches off the ground. Who wouldn’t figure it out? Apparently she was there with her friend, who was getting her makeup done. We overheard them mumbling at the cash register that “she was the Hair Master.” Uh, ya, I think not.
So, without further ado, here are the after pictures. Is my daughter not absolutely beautiful? Well, her husband certainly thinks so.