I knew I needed a haircut well before the Christmas holiday. But between last-minute shopping, wrapping, mailing, tagging, and trying to invent gluten-free chocolate crackle cookies (a fail), time just got away from me.
How lucky that one of my presents this year was a gift certificate to a hair salon! My parents really came through. My sister got the same certificate and announced, “I’m going there this week! I’ll set something up for both of us to go when I schedule the next appointment.”
Perfect. A sister bonding day, plus, I could take care of this “desperately need a haircut” thing (because, at this point, it had become a desperate and rather unruly situation).
Kim called the following week. “We’re all set! I made our appointments for Feb. 3.”
That sounded like a long way off. I mean, I was already probably a month overdue for a trim, and we were now looking at another six weeks. But I hate to be the high-maintenance sort, plus, I had a lot on my plate—I was working probably sixty hours a week during the month of January—so I decided to throw my hair into a ponytail and wait it out.
By the time our salon date arrived, I looked like a hag. I mean, seriously, look at the before picture. Still don't believe me? I took one of those fun "Who's your celebrity twin?" quizzes on Facebook, and got this:
How lucky that one of my presents this year was a gift certificate to a hair salon! My parents really came through. My sister got the same certificate and announced, “I’m going there this week! I’ll set something up for both of us to go when I schedule the next appointment.”
Perfect. A sister bonding day, plus, I could take care of this “desperately need a haircut” thing (because, at this point, it had become a desperate and rather unruly situation).
Kim called the following week. “We’re all set! I made our appointments for Feb. 3.”
That sounded like a long way off. I mean, I was already probably a month overdue for a trim, and we were now looking at another six weeks. But I hate to be the high-maintenance sort, plus, I had a lot on my plate—I was working probably sixty hours a week during the month of January—so I decided to throw my hair into a ponytail and wait it out.
By the time our salon date arrived, I looked like a hag. I mean, seriously, look at the before picture. Still don't believe me? I took one of those fun "Who's your celebrity twin?" quizzes on Facebook, and got this:
The hairdresser made the sign of the cross when I walked in, but otherwise was quite pleasant. She didn’t yell at me for waiting so long or for cutting my own bangs. She just sighed, patted my shoulder, and said, “Don’t cry. We can fix this.”
And she did.
Feeling much lighter and better groomed, I smiled into the salon mirror. “You have the same hair as your sister! I gave you the same cut.”
Um, what? Listen: I love by big sis. And yeah, I’ve been known to copy her from time to time (we even have the same make, model, and color of vehicle). But she has my dad’s face and my mom’s coloring; I have my mom’s face and my father’s pigmentation. And nobody wants to see my parents with the same hairdo.
“No, no,” she said at my horrified expression. (I was picturing my father with my mom’s Jackie O hairstyle.) “You two will wear it differently.”
I waited anxiously for Kim to get done in her chair. If we started showing up to family functions with the same hairstyle, we’d never hear the end of it. It’s one thing to emulate your sister when you’re kids. But we’re in our forties. This was moving perilously close to “total dork” territory. How could I go to my nephews’ basketball games? I couldn’t possibly sit next to their mother. They’d be ridiculed for life!
Kim stood up from the chair. I held my breath. We blinked at each other.
By golly, the hairdresser was right. We both looked adorable, but different. Thank God.
The point of the story: the Longo sisters are both happily styled once again. You’re welcome. (And thank you, Capricorn Hair Salon!)
And she did.
Feeling much lighter and better groomed, I smiled into the salon mirror. “You have the same hair as your sister! I gave you the same cut.”
Um, what? Listen: I love by big sis. And yeah, I’ve been known to copy her from time to time (we even have the same make, model, and color of vehicle). But she has my dad’s face and my mom’s coloring; I have my mom’s face and my father’s pigmentation. And nobody wants to see my parents with the same hairdo.
“No, no,” she said at my horrified expression. (I was picturing my father with my mom’s Jackie O hairstyle.) “You two will wear it differently.”
I waited anxiously for Kim to get done in her chair. If we started showing up to family functions with the same hairstyle, we’d never hear the end of it. It’s one thing to emulate your sister when you’re kids. But we’re in our forties. This was moving perilously close to “total dork” territory. How could I go to my nephews’ basketball games? I couldn’t possibly sit next to their mother. They’d be ridiculed for life!
Kim stood up from the chair. I held my breath. We blinked at each other.
By golly, the hairdresser was right. We both looked adorable, but different. Thank God.
The point of the story: the Longo sisters are both happily styled once again. You’re welcome. (And thank you, Capricorn Hair Salon!)
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