Let me start by stating the obvious: I’m not high maintenance. Right or wrong, I don’t feel compelled to wear the latest fashion trends, or slap on a full face of makeup to go grocery shopping. That’s just how I roll, but please note, this being a judgement-free zone, I don’t look down on people who are high maintenance. There’s room here for everybody.
But, here’s the thing - since I’ve been on this whole starting over adventure, I’ve been consciously trying to spot bits of the old me lurking in the shadows waiting for the most opportune time to fling me back from whence I came. What old bits, you ask? Well, take for instance my fear of not know where I’m going - literally. Nothing had the power to spike my anxiety faster than having to navigate a new city to get from Point A to Point B.
Enter Google Maps, slower speed limits and less aggressive drivers. Problem solved.
But that’s neither here nor there. Some old bits aren’t fear-based; they’re just remnants of learned behaviors that I came all this way to unlearn.
What does this have to do with me being low maintenance, you may very well ask? Here goes: I used to be high maintenance. It’s true. I actually used to wear things like eye shadow and panty hose to work (can you even imagine) and get my hair cut and highlighted every six to eight weeks. Granted, at the time, I was on the executive track and had five boys under the age of ten (read into that what you will). But somewhere along the way, spending big bucks on my appearance started to feel frivolous. I blame the high cost of post secondary education (I’m looking at you, college fund).
As my boys made their way through elementary, middle and high school, my hair care routine somehow became reduced to an every-couple-of-months trim at Great Clips, using whatever haircare products I could catch on sale. And, with the vibe in my super chill new city leaning high style, not high maintenance, I thought I could keep this up after my cross-country move.
Maybe it was seeing the same old me in the mirror every day.
Maybe it was that all-too-familiar sense of fading into the background.
Maybe it was the quite unexpected twist in my starting over trajectory (subject of a future post - I promise).
Whatever the reason, I knew it was time. Asking a trusted buddy (whose hair always looks très magnifique) for some guidance, I looked up her salon and made myself an appointment.
Who said I’d never share before and after pictures…?
[Here’s the part where I remind you that this is a judgement-free zone.]
Lessons learned:
You can’t put a price on self-esteem.
Now I need new glasses.
New haircuts can really make a difference. I love it!
(And I also like Zenni.)
Tre magnifique? Hmmm. 💕 Warby Parker.