I am one of those people who go from long hair to short hair to long to short – and rarely have it in the middle – except of course when transitioning. Might mean something about my personality but let’s not worry about that today. Today I am still worrying about karma and reincarnation. I’ve been wearing my hair long for a couple of years now. About seven or eight weeks ago I had it lopped off. Snip! Snip! Snip! The discard pile of brown locks looked like one big bunny rabbit. Ahhh! Nothing more freeing than a dramatic change like that. Especially fun since I hadn’t told any one that I was going to do this. And very refreshing to have my teenager, Emma, hop into the car after school and tell me I looked like a Vogue model. A rare word of praise from my teen girls – I love the darlings but man! they are critical of their momma sometimes! So I cut my hair short. Which for me means a couple of things. On a regular basis I am balancing my masculine job – farming – with my sense of sexy. In short – I can work like a man but I don’t want to look like one. And short hair adds another ball to the juggling act. Dramatic earrings, a scarf, and an added dash of makeup become daily requirements. Lipstick? Needed about every other day. And flannel shirts….hmmm…not wearing them so much these days either. Which is too bad as I have a pretty nice collection of them, including one Levis shirt that is at least thirty years old, and another gorgeous printed Brooks Brothers shirt I found at a secondhand store. (This very second my clock fell off the wall – has been there for six years and crash! What the heck?! Let’s ignore that too.) I’ve been on a rant about the lack of feminine work clothes – a problem compounded by my short hair. The other problem with short hair is that it requires frequent cutting. My favorite hair dresser is about 30 minutes away so I decided to try a new stylist. For the sake of this story I’ll call her Ms. Hap. No? – let’s just call her Missy. So time to shape my ‘do. I thought about going to my favourite stylist but she was out town. I booked a one o’clock appointment with Missy, my second visit to her salon. The first five minutes were chatty. Missy: How are your animals? Kelly: Fine, fine. We’ll be happy when winter is over. MIssy: Same here, Though I don’t look forward to the big scoop! Kelly: What do you mean? Missy: You know – the dog! All that poop! For someone other than me this would probably trigger a warning alarm – this isn’t exactly normal hair cutting chatter. I was unfazed. Until I noticed that Missy had been working on the same combful of hair for a long time. She switched combs. She switched scissors. She switched the comb and kept the scissors. Then tried the opposite, old comb, new scissors. No progress – she kept working the same piece of hair. I studied my hair trying to understand the problem but didn’t see an issue. Missy switched combs and scissors again. Then she spritzed the spot with water. Then she began to mutter to herself about this uncooperative piece of hair. I am afraid that my conversation style can be like my hair style – a whole lot or just a bit. If excited – my words come like a deluge, if not sure of the situation – not even a trickle – I need to think. I sat there thinking. Clearly Missy was stuck. Finally I suggested, with as much levity as possibly, that perhaps she should give that spot a rest and come back to it. Which she promptly complied with – she went straight down to my ear area and lopped off a chunk of hair. Leaving me with a sideburn and a ghastly poof of hair behind/under my ear. Now I was good and truly concerned. I don’t consider myself vain or obsessive about my looks but egads! I could only imagine what my girls would say. After thinking a bit and seeing no positive progression I ventured another suggestion, “Perhaps that sideburn needs to be cleaned up a bit.” Voila! No more sideburn. But hell fire and damnation! pretty much no more hair at all around the front and top of my ear – and a big poof right behind it! At this point she pulled up a stool, sat down, and stated, “If only we could take your ears off I could get this to work.” No levity in this statement, none from her and certainly I was not amused. To my credit, I calmly responded, “You know, Missy, I am feeling a bit panicked.” She, wisely – I thought – suggested we quit cutting and go for a wash and blow dry and see if we could both regain our calmness. She washed. I lay there and wondered what was going on with her today. I took a few deep breaths and decided to hope for the best. No way was I going outside with my hair looking like this! Last time she had done a great job cutting my hair – of course everything would be fine. She blowed my hair dry. Which – considering I only have a few inches of hair – took a very long time. The second she had it dry…she went back to the spot she had been obsessing over earlier. I shut my eyes and pretended this was not happening to me. It gets worse. The other stylist in the salon then comes over and reminds Missy that her next vict..I mean client would be there in ten minutes. Which prompted Missy to speed up, she abruptly grabbed her scissors and lopped off a neat square chunk of my hair. I finally found some words, “I don’t think this is really working out today, I have to go.” I stood and got my coat. She followed me saying I had to give her a chance to fix it, I had to come back tomorrow, I had to sleep on it. I went to another salon that evening. They diagnosed my hair as having ‘divots’. The dictionary definition? Divots: a piece of turf cut out of the ground by a golf club in making a stroke. Not good. Not fatal but not good. The only conclusion I can make is that Missy was stoned. I hate to accuse anyone of anything but her obsession with one lock of hair was very odd, her slow movements, her commentary…all very odd. Remarkably I’ve gotten compliments on my new look. My daughters assure me this is only generosity on the part of good friends. All I can say is that the cows don’t seem to mind! Here I am with long hair, and overalls, easy to look like a girl in overalls with long hair! And here I am with my twice-cut hair. If you look above my ear you can see the remains of a divot – see that light spot? At least it doesn’t have a puffy curl under it anymore!