Scissor Sister

Well, today was farewell to my hair stylist and friend for the last 17 years, M.

It’s safe to say we crossed over the service provider/customer realm about 16 1/2 years ago to cackling buddies since.

We reminisced about the old times…. when I was single and looking for love, bad boyfriend drama (there was a ton of that), new careers, and the day she styled my hair for my wedding 13 years ago. We talked about the zillion color changes that topped my head over the last two decades… from blonde, to red to brown and back again.

We were pregnant together in 2002/2003 (her first and my first and only- David), with the same due date at the time (she ultimately had her daughter two weeks early, I had my son two weeks late). We are the same age, and we both talked about turning 40 for the last ten years (after we got over 30), and then when we did finally reach 40 we decided 40 really WAS the new 30 after all.

She is one of the few people in my life that is genuinely interested in my infertility struggle and doesn’t avoid talking to me about it (which is refeshing considering most of the people in my life pretend it doesn’t exist)….

With each foil or snip of the scissors she knew every detail and up and down in my life. And I hers. We shared makeup tips in our twenties, and knew all the cool clubs in the city. In our thirties we talked about babies, work/life balance, diets, and PBS Kids Sprout channel. Today we discussed what we really think is under Bret Michael’s do-rag on “Rock of Love”….

We are and always will be cool.

M. be jetting off to southern states in a few weeks, taking her two little beautious munchkins to reunite with her husband who is already there (working a new gig) and waiting for her.

She is convinced that her moving away will result in my long-awaiting second child. And instead of sharing pictures in person, we wil be forced to communicate via e-mail.

From your mouth to Gods ears, M…..

Safe traveling, sister.

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