Hello friends. I'm back with a good one to tell. Albeit short and anticlimactic, but worth telling in my opinion.
Over the weekend I went to the hairdresser and she made some pretty drastic changes to my 'do. I've been rather blonde (dirty blondeish/light brown?) for a long time and I wanted to go very dark. It's close to black with some light brown melts toward the ends. A very subtle highlight. She also cut some inches, added some layers and freshened up the yuckies on the ends. Stunning. She did a fabulous job. I was feeling pretty fancy about myself after Collette told me what a great skin tone I had for pulling off this dark hair.
"I was skeptical about how dark you wanted to go, but now that it's done, I see that you have the type of skin and eyebrows that can pull probably any color off."
My hair was shiny, the day was sunny, I had a date night planned and I was feeling confident about things in general. I contemplated the night's outfit and shoes as I jogged the stairs of Collette's basement salon.
Right as I arrived at the top step, the dreaded tip-of-the-shoe scuff happened. Just before the long trip from my feet to my face, a gorgeous couple pulled up in a nice car RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. For some reason, her eyes are what I chose to zero-in on as I collapsed to my dignity's demise. My book flew to the left, my keys flew to the right and my water bottle went straight ahead, rolling right underneath gorgeous couple's stopped tire.
My hands stung from catching my body's weight on the cold winter pavement, but my face burned more from the sheer embarrassment of the fall. I'm used to falling or making a fool of myself, but this was different. I was feeling so fantastically good-looking with my new hair and then the universe sensed that vanity and knocked me on my ass. That's what I get, I guess. (This reminds me of a separate story, similarly played out, of when I had some sassy new stilettos on. I wore them cautiously all day, wondering if they were too high for me to master. The second I felt that I could walk boldly and balanced, I tripped.)
The gal in the passenger side of the car opened the door and asked if I was alright. She collected my water bottle from beneath her Benz tire and handed it to me with a look of sweet pity in her eyes.
It seems stairs are a particular struggle for me. Remember these other accidents?
