The Look

I haven't had the luxury of a good haircut in a long time. I usually just go to Fantasic Sams and have them hack off a good 5 or six inches once a year.

I used to have my friend Christa cut my hair before she took time off to have her darling baby boys.

She would give me the best hair styles to frame my face. They were up to date and youthful because she is up to date and youthful.

I enjoyed sitting there in the salon with her chatting about this and that. But there was always a point that I dreaded. She would spritz the final touch of hairspray with a flourish and hand me the mirror. I would stiffen. She would smile at me encouragingly. I would set my face. She would nod. I would relax and look at my hair and she would say:

"There! You just did it!"

"What?" I would be crushed. "Did what?"

"That Look. The same look you always make when I'm done cutting your hair."

"But I tried so hard not to." I would whine.

"It never fails. You always do it." My beautiful blonde and smug friend.

This became a not-so-looked-forward-to tradition between the two of us. Well, I didn't look forward to it. I'm sure Christa did. She would always laugh delightedly when she saw "The Look". As hard as I tried, I never disappointed her.

***

So last night, I'm getting Celeste and Emme ready for a Father Daughter Dance at the local Country Club. They bathe and wash their hair, dress in lovely black and white taffetta dresses, put on their Sharpay perfume. They then announce to eachother that it's time to go the Hairdresser.

That's where I step in. I'm the Hairdresser. I plug in the hot rollers. I set out my tools and I blow Celeste's hair dry. The hot rollers are hot.
"I just want one roller Mom. Right in the front." is Celeste's request.

I indulge her with one roller. I blow dry Emme's hair.

Celeste takes off the roller after a bit. She looks in the mirror. She has one curl cascading down the side of her head. It lies serenely on top of the rest of her silky straight locks. I regard her hairstyle, thinking that I like it, but maybe it could use some tweaking. I plan on tweaking it in a moment.

I'm still drying Emme's hair when I feel someone's eyes on me. Celeste is looking at me long and hard. I look back at her questioningly.

"Mommy. You gave me The Look."

My blood runs cold.

"What Look?" I ask cautiously.

"That look that you always make when you don't like how I combed my hair."

Oh. That Look.

I get it now.

It's not a bad look. All it means is that I like it, but it could use some personal tweaking. It's a look reserved only for hair.

I think Christa would have loved to have been there.