Haircuts and Butterflies — Unlocking the Secrets of the Universe

– Posted in: Beauty, Depression, First World Problems, Grief, Logan's Story, Memories, Personal Insanity, Sappy Tammy

Well, after three-and-a-half-plus months, I finally did it. I got my hair cut.

I was starting to think I was going to end up like Crystal Gale. Or one of those Oprah makeovers where they find the woman who’s also wearing huge glasses, circa 1970, and light blue mom jeans.

I wasn’t being a complete schlep about not getting my hair done for so long. I had an ulterior motive. But truth be told, I didn’t mind ditching the couple hours it took every six weeks to get highlights. Not to mention paying to get highlights. But the fact is, I was starting to look a little scruffy.

No, the reason I was avoiding the salon was because the last person who’d done my hair was my cousin, Logan. He died in September, right around the time I should’ve gotten my hair done. In fact, I was going to call him and ask if he could meet me on Sunday, but I didn’t want to bother him. Didn’t want to ruin his weekend. As it turned out, that might have kept him alive. He might have forgone his trip to the lake, stayed off the boat, and never drowned.

Truly, I’m not one of those people who does the “What if” thing. That would be like trying to control the universe by making the correct butterfly in Guatemala not flap its wings. So it’s not that I’m feeling any misplaced sense of guilt.

But I was feeling a sense of loss when it came to my hair. My hair was the last thing Logan left his mark on for me. When he did my hair that last time in August, we hung out for hours. We talked about politics and music and his future. He took me over to see his fairly disgusting apartment that was the same type of place I’d lived in 20 years ago (how the hell I’d tolerated that, I have no idea).

I don’t exactly know how to describe it but. . . it was almost like we didn’t want our time to end. Maybe somehow, we just kind of. . . knew.

So on Thursday, Madeline, who was Logan’s friend and mentor, cut and colored my hair. And it was all okay. But today, I’m sad. That’s sometimes how it goes with me — stuff tends to hit in slow motion. Or, at least, that’s apparently when I decide to let it all come down. It’s like my one and only way of controlling anything in the universe.

At least that’s what I like to tell myself.

Mom and Elfie, whose curls turned out much cuter than my blow-out

10 Comments… add one

Ginger December 1, 2012, 8:50 pm

hugs and more hugs..this made me cry…tears of sympathy for your great loss…amazing what our hair means to us, and to magnify it by your loss…Giant hugs
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Tammy December 1, 2012, 11:15 pm

Thanks Ginger. xo

Joyce Bettridge December 1, 2012, 10:11 pm

Your hair looks beautiful, I am sure Logan would approve! My new grandson’s name is Logan, he was born on 11/28/12.

Tammy December 1, 2012, 11:16 pm

Thanks Joyce. Good name, good month.

Mary December 1, 2012, 10:40 pm

Major hugs and Logan would be the FIRST one to tell you to go out and live and get your hair did! 🙂 He would be happy.

Tammy December 1, 2012, 11:16 pm

You’re right — he’d be totally happy.

Rachel December 2, 2012, 9:42 am

So sorry. I’m sure that was hard. You do look pretty though!

Tammy December 4, 2012, 1:25 pm

Thanks. Some day I’ll be cool enough to get a short haircut like yours.

By Word of Mouth Musings December 3, 2012, 9:54 am

All the many firsts you have coming up …
each one is going to hit you hard – so very sorry 🙁
xxx hugs xxx
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Tammy December 4, 2012, 1:29 pm

What a crappy book of firsts, right? Not exactly what you’d like to put on pretty paper and tie up with a bow. Not as if I do that with the good memories either — scrapbooking, not really my forte. Good thing I have this blog…

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