If we end up moving here for good, I'd have to consider breaking a promise I made to my mother on her deathbed.
You might be thinking it's something deep like when I get the chance I should dance or perhaps something like I need to be good to my husband. No, my mother made me promise never to cut my hair short. Seriously. One of the last things she ever said to me was, "Whatever you do, don't cut your hair short." Ha! It cracks me up that was on her mind at the very end. Of all things to ponder, my hair was first and foremost?! The absolute very last thing she ever said was that Tom and I would have children with big hands and big feet. That's my mom - funny to the end.
Back to my hair... have I mentioned it's hot here? Having long, thick locks is lovely in West Texas where there's no humidity. My curls stayed put. As my friend Laura from Mississippi says, "The higher the hair, the closer to God."
That's not the case in Singapore. The higher the hair, the bigger the fall. My hair has been a mess since I got here. I've tried every kind of updo I can possibly manage. Yesterday, Hudson (unhappy to be insidea store) wailed for a half hour while I waited at H&M to buy some kind of new fangled hair clip - all for naught.
Today, I got my hair cut - not short - but definitely shorter than I've had it for years. Mostly, she thinned out the neck hair. It was incredibly expensive - twice as much as I pay in Westchester - and I'm not even sure I like it. Alison was referred to me by Typhaine, the woman who is kind enough to let us stay in her apartment. When I called to make the appointment, I asked how much it was. The receptionist told me the price. I thought that was for both a cut and color. Turns out, the cut and color were EACH that price. Gulp!
I think I look like I'm one of The Beatles. I feel as though I should break out into a few bars from Sergeant Peppers. And get this... it took FOUR hours. That's right! FOUR hours! Yes, I got my roots done, too, but dear God. FOUR HOURS? I think my hair actually grew while she cut it. Hudson's haircut - even with him wiggling and whining - took a total of seven minutes. What the hey?
It took so long that I missed bedtime with the kids tonight. Cheryl had to do it all by herself. The good news is that I was close to Tom's office so he met me down at Boat Quay for a nice Indian dinner. We sat at a table right on the river looking across town at some of the lights from the nightly laser show. It sounds romantic - and it was, sort of - but it was also hot. Sweaty ain't that romantic, eh - nor is Tom's cold. Poor fella.
Having the most expensive haircut on the planet may not be so bad. My hair actually held a shape walking home from dinner with Tom - a shape I don't like, but perhaps any shape is better than hot, sweaty, frizzy, long, limp hair. Heck, if I picked up stringer work covering a tsunami (God forbid!), my hair would look good for the liveshots probably. If you look hard enough, there's always a silver lining, right? That's something else my mother taught me.
Sorry no photos tonight. I didn't take the camera with me. Who thought I'd be gone ALL day!?