Not a day passes without someone going to a salon demanding a drastic style and color change. Hairstylists call this phenomenon, “Post Break Up Hair.” Jack may not know it yet, but Jill is filing for divorce and washing that man right out of her hair. The gender truth is that women like to cleanse, and why not? If ever there was a time to renovate body and soul, this is it, and serves the additional benefit of irritating Jack beyond all rationale. This set me thinking of what rules should apply to such a change, and just as quickly I realized that any rules I would prescribe would defeat the very joy of throwing rules and caution to the wind. Drastic change is after all, drastic, and should not be encumbered by such things as reason or purpose. In the end, hair is just hair, and grows back, unlike cutting off the nose to spite the face. Color and length are important, but not nearly as important as the image, the message you want to send. My message would be, “Look at me! I am young, fresh, independent, confident, and free of you!” If I did it right, it would also say, “I look hot, and I am on my way out the door to go trolling for some young six-pack yummy to fulfill my every fantasy. Soccer Mom my foot. Think Soccer Team.” To send this message I think the hair needs to be off the shoulder or shorter with great movement and color that just explodes into the room. If you are going red, then go really red, not just a few red strands woven into your old yesterday hair, but a bold, vibrant red so alarming that burly firemen feel uneasy in your presence; or perhaps a deep mysterious black with cool blue hues that play in the moonlight; or a thick rich chocolate brown that begs to be served with strawberries and champagne; or maybe a striking blonde so dynamically brilliant that every woman in the room hates you, and grown men are reduced to tears because they haven’t met you. This is of course probably not a job for your local chop shop and if your town doesn’t have an upscale salon, all the better, think road trip. You have always wanted to go to New York City, so make an appointment with Bumble and Bumble in New York, or with The Dove’s in California. That done, we go shopping. Victoria Secrets for a bushel of nylons and naughties to match the new do, four or five new outfits from Prada, the sexier the better, at least six pair of shoes with matching handbags, a free for all at the Mac cosmetics counter, and a quick stop at the convenience store for a box of Hefty bags, … so Jack’s stuff won’t get wet on the lawn. Can’t afford all of this you say? Did I mention we put this all on Jack’s credit card just hours before we file? Keep the order of events straight, and maybe take your best friend along so you have someone to share the moment with.
Not a day passes without someone going to a salon demanding a drastic style and color change. Hairstylists call this phenomenon, “Post Break Up Hair.” Jack may not know it yet, but Jill is filing for divorce and washing that man right out of her hair. The gender truth is that women like to cleanse, and why not? If ever there was a time to renovate body and soul, this is it, and serves the additional benefit of irritating Jack beyond all rationale. This set me thinking of what rules should apply to such a change, and just as quickly I realized that any rules I would prescribe would defeat the very joy of throwing rules and caution to the wind. Drastic change is after all, drastic, and should not be encumbered by such things as reason or purpose. In the end, hair is just hair, and grows back, unlike cutting off the nose to spite the face. Color and length are important, but not nearly as important as the image, the message you want to send. My message would be, “Look at me! I am young, fresh, independent, confident, and free of you!” If I did it right, it would also say, “I look hot, and I am on my way out the door to go trolling for some young six-pack yummy to fulfill my every fantasy. Soccer Mom my foot. Think Soccer Team.” To send this message I think the hair needs to be off the shoulder or shorter with great movement and color that just explodes into the room. If you are going red, then go really red, not just a few red strands woven into your old yesterday hair, but a bold, vibrant red so alarming that burly firemen feel uneasy in your presence; or perhaps a deep mysterious black with cool blue hues that play in the moonlight; or a thick rich chocolate brown that begs to be served with strawberries and champagne; or maybe a striking blonde so dynamically brilliant that every woman in the room hates you, and grown men are reduced to tears because they haven’t met you. This is of course probably not a job for your local chop shop and if your town doesn’t have an upscale salon, all the better, think road trip. You have always wanted to go to New York City, so make an appointment with Bumble and Bumble in New York, or with The Dove’s in California. That done, we go shopping. Victoria Secrets for a bushel of nylons and naughties to match the new do, four or five new outfits from Prada, the sexier the better, at least six pair of shoes with matching handbags, a free for all at the Mac cosmetics counter, and a quick stop at the convenience store for a box of Hefty bags, … so Jack’s stuff won’t get wet on the lawn. Can’t afford all of this you say? Did I mention we put this all on Jack’s credit card just hours before we file? Keep the order of events straight, and maybe take your best friend along so you have someone to share the moment with.
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