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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly May 1, 2003 “Wait. You called a taxi, and then climbed in the backseat of your car?” I asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Yup.” Lena said, snipping away at my hair. “I knew I wasn’t safe to drive.” “So. The police came and arrested you for DWI, and the car wasn’t even started?” “Yup.” “And then the taxi came, and the police sent it away?” “Yup.” “And you still went to jail for a week? Didn’t you have a lawyer?” “Of course I did. Didn’t matter. But I only had to do three days of hard time. I got out early for good behavior.” “Wow.” I said, laughing. “Good behavior. I know that you can’t normally hold yourself together for three whole days at a time.” She laughed. “Believe me. There are way more hardened criminals in there than me. They needed the space.” “What was it like in there?” I asked, slightly salivating. I mean. I was always up for a good story. “Oh. Just like in the movies. Except for the uniforms. That was the most annoying part.” “Why?” “Well. You walk into this room, and you are supposed to just know your uniform size. Like they expected me to study up before I got there. I had no idea.” “Ok. That would be hard for me, too. I hardly know my shoe size. Does each jail have its own sizing for uniforms?” “I’ve no idea.” “There should be some kind of book that you could look in, so you can walk in there all smart, knowing your size. You know… for each jail.” “So. They said that it didn’t matter if I got the size wrong, since I am only going to be there a few days. But. I put one on and it was too baggy. I insisted that I try a smaller size. They tried to tell me that nobody would care if I was doing the baggy deal.” “Funny.” “No. Not funny. So I insisted again and they let me try on one way smaller. Yeah. Way too tight.” “You are so hard to fit, aren’t you?” “Yeah. Finally I got it right.” “Any good fights in there?” “Oh. One girl got in my face. I got right back in her face.” “And.” “Well. I didn’t lose my two days off. It wasn’t worth it.” She finished with my hair. I decided that maybe it wasn’t a good time to talk about a hairdresser’s harrowing experiences while one is getting a haircut. I had, by far, the shortest haircut of my life. Lena said, “It’s perfect.” “No. I look like those pictures of when I was six and my mother put a bowl on my head to use as a guide for a haircut.” Her next appointment agreed. So Lena started shaping it. The good news is that the shape vastly improved. Yup. You got it. I lost another inch of length. “Sorry Holly. Hey. You aren’t dating anyone, anyway, are you?” “Um. Yes, I am. And why does that matter? Can’t I look good even if I’m not dating anyone?” “Oh. God. Sorry. I never would have changed the cut if I knew there was a man involved.” She paled. Great. I have the same exact hair cut for thirty six years, drastically change it, and now my hairdresser pales after each minor change. Not a good sign. I waved away her apology, accepted her discounted price for too much chopping and headed home to e-mail Darlin-man. I thought that maybe he would like my new look better if I gave him a bit of an e-mail scare: ME: By the way, Darlin-man. I got a very short hair cut. You may have trouble recognizing me. D-M: How about a digital a photo? ME: No. Just imagine me the way I was, only now I have hair shorter than yours. D-M: Sounds drastic. How does it look? ME: The spikes really bring out my pointy nose. Since I’m on medical leave, thought it would be a good time to get it tri-dyed. But, that won’t happen till tomorrow. D-M: You may be too radical for a small town boy like me ME: Radical? Not yet. Wait till you see the nose ring. D-M: Oh. Good. I can play with it. Send a photo? ME: No. Might break the camera. Yeah. I know. It really wasn’t scary at all. Imagine his relief when he found that it was far longer than he feared, measuring below my jaw line. He didn’t pale at all. In fact, he charmed on and on about how awesome and attractive I looked. “You know.” He whispered. “I was worried.” “Really?” I feigned surprise. “You worried about my hair cut?” I mean. Come on. He didn’t think those e-mails were meant to entice him, did he? ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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