Oh curls, how I am missing thee....

This morning, I visited with the best stylist in the world, Felicity. It was time to cover the naughty greys and the errant brunettes with a some red hair colour and a splash of blonde. As usual...it looks fantastic. I take no responsibility for this, either. Felicity is a genius.

Most of my hairdressers have this interest/obsession with straightening my naturally, curly locks. Felicity is no different. Since it is nice to shake things up once in a while, I indulged her (and my curiosity) and my hair is now...poof...poker straight. If you propped me up against my sister, you might actually see a resemblance. The straight hair...I'm not sure it's really me, though.

First of all...the dog did not recognize me. Not at all. He bounced up and down in the air as if I were a complete stranger. He sniffed me as if I was a new toy or outdoor scent.

Second...I feel almost naked. Really. It's very strange looking in the mirror at a controlled mane. Usually, my hair is everywhere. Very wild, almost bush woman like. Now...I look like I should be reading the nightly news in front of a camera.

Lastly...this "neat" appearance of mine is making me feel normal and conformist. I miss the wild locks. I really do.

I'm debating whether or not I should hop in the shower and rinse out the plaster keeping my curls from bouncing back. It's fun having straight hair and being able to brush it. But...it's just not me. Not wild. Not kooky. Just flat. Flat and just like everyone else.