Mary Goes to the Salon: A Reflection
About once every three to four years, I like to do something that normal human beings do all the time, yet makes me feel like an alien observer that just landed on Earth. Today, that meant going to a salon to color my hair. This was Essential because I hate summer. I’ve always hated summer as an adult, even when I had the summers off. Because I hate summer, I start hating everything (I can hear your thoughts so let me qualify---I start hating everything more than I normally do), s o I decided I hate my hair and my glasses the most. Since I already own three pairs of glasses, I should therefore change my hair. I make an appointment at a salon and actually go (which is big for me). I arrive at the salon and am immediately uncomfortable. It’s summer, so I’m not wearing make-up. I’m wearing a dress I bought at Gap about 10 years ago, and I haven’t *technically* combed my hair, a fact all the more shocking since I drove to the salon with my windows down. This is both My Normal an