Today’s adventure?

I just spent the last hour crying my eyes out because, in my effort to find a new hair stylist (our amazing stylist just moved to Texas), I went into a new salon and left with butchered hair. I’ve been working on growing my hair out for our wedding, and the devastation that happened inside me when I saw what she was doing with her scissors was like cold running all throughout my insides. (and trust me, I tried to redirect her and tell her I didn’t want but a tiny 1/2 inch to an inch trim, but it was too late after the first chunk fell!)

Yes, yes, it’s dramatic (it is me after all :P), but it’s also one of those things that I’ve spent time dreaming about….you know, the way I’ll have such long hair that the stylist will be able to put it up a little bit and leave some down, and I’ll still have soft curls falling everywhere while I walk down the aisle…

“Ruined!” I half-sobbed, half-gasped, half-shouted at Lindsey after we got into the car. But, she responded with soft and sweet like the pink blossoms on all the trees surrounding us as we sat in the car. She held me for a while, then drove us home, then held me some more, then sat me in the bathroom and straightened and styled my hair until the tears stopped running down my face.

I have to say that the parts of life that make us cringe or cry (or wish that men in black suits would storm into that salon and rip the stylist’s license up into pieces and file out with bad-ass class *cough*) don’t really strike me at first as adventures, or as living a better story, or as filling my time with the fullest moments. But, when my hair grows out and the butchering isn’t so evident, I’m quite sure that I will look back on this moment and not remember how frantically I clutched my hair as if to will the inches back on or how hard I sobbed over something as little as a haircut; I will, however, remember the way that Lindsey grabbed my face and told me how beautiful I am, how she wiped away the tears streaming down my face, and how she tenderly worked on styling my hair as I sat there crying, all the while assuring me that it wasn’t so bad and it would grow back before our wedding.

With those eyes looking at the situation, I can almost see my traumatic salon hour transforming into something more like….”remember that crazy little moment that led to sitting down in forever tenderness and unending love?”

Okay, now that’s a better story.

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