The Price of Beauty

On Thursday, I spent eight hours at the hair salon. I kid you not. The length and expense of making myself look like something I'm not is why I only do the girly-girl thing twice a year.

In case you think I hyperbolize (yes, I've been known to exaggerate for effect, but not this time). I entered the salon at 10 a.m. and left at 6 p.m.

See, I was blessed (or cursed depending on how you look at it) with excessively thick hair. I know it's excessive because every hair stylist whose ever laid hand to it has told me so (often in a whiny tone) as they laborious deal with my abundant locks.

I had my hair straightened and colored and shampooed and cut and conditioned and just about everything it's possible to do to hair.

So, what's the occassion? Well, I'm coming out of my writing cave to attend Boas and Tiaras, a reader event in Dallas held by Freshfiction. Guess what? It's being filmed for Freshfiction's blog. So if you want to see my new, flat, coiffed hair check out the event live on 6/11 via podcast at Freshfiction.com.