I am my own mirror image.

Yesterday, I had a dental appointment, then I had to go colour guard practice in the gaybourhood. As I got to my appointment early, he took me early, my cleaning and polishing only took one unit (ie: <15 minutes)  and I had no cavities, I got to colour guard REALLY early.

 

The DS was also early so we had a quick bite of Chalet Suisse, wandered around, and dropped in to see a friend who works at the hair salon. He will be doing the DS’s hair next week so she’s pretty for Pride.

 

<Yes, of COURSE, she’s pretty now. But Gemini femmes like some maintenance…>

 

As we were chatting, the DS decided I needed a haircut and that Michoel was the man to do it. "I’m scheduled for a haircut tomorrow," I said. Not good enough.

 

So I got a haircut while the DS went to colour guard practice. Her parting words as she left the salon were, "and don’t let her leave without some GOOD hair product".

 

Then she came back twice to check on me (probably good because Michoel was leaning towards giving me a faux hawk).

 

When I was done, I had new hair product and a new ‘do. Well, pretty much the old ‘do but parted on the other  side. Apparently, I have been trying to part my hair against the natural part for the last 8 years.

 

My normal morning routine is: shower, comb hair, add product, brush teeth, get dressed. This morning, I showered, toweled my hair as instructed, let it air dry (takes about 3 minutes for my hair length)  while brushing my teeth and then went to get dressed. Sadly, because I was out of order and anticipating parting my hair on the opposite side, I couldn’t remember what I needed to do to get dressed. It was very traumatic.

 

And when I got into work, I didn’t notice a part at all. How can hair this short be this complicated?

 

Fortunately, the DS assures me it’s very studly so I should be fine. I’ll still have groupies when I twirl flags for the Toronto Pride parade.

 

Now I just have to call and cancel my haircut for this afternoon. I don’t know what to tell her – I feel like I had a stylist affair. And I can’t say I just don’t need a haircut or am too busy because the next time I go to her, she’ll see my hair parted on the other side. She’ll know. Oh the guilt of being a hair-owner!