Gaylord Palms

I went to Hotwire.com and got a room at the Gaylord Palms for $99 per night. We were totally stoked. We said when Nathan got a job we would go on vacation, I would get a new outfit and a haircut. My hair hadn't seen a professional since June. I looked hideous. I decided to go to the salon at the resort. I had previously planned on going to Shelby at Shelbydoesyourhair.com However, I am prone to impulsive decisions when it comes to hair choices. I go to the salon and am greeted by my hair dresser. She looks at least 10 years older than my mom. Nothing like Shelby at all. I am feeling hesitant. What if she gives me an old lady haircut? I consider turning around and running out of the salon but I have on these new cheap sandals from Target to go with my new expensive dress from Tommy Bahama and they are really hurting my feet. I don't think I can escape without tripping and falling and making a scene. To save myself from public humiliation I shake her hand and follow her to the chair.

"So, what are we doing today?" Old lady says.

"Um, well, I wanted to get you know, a haircut." I reply, stating what I thought was obvious.

"What were you thinking about in particular?"

"Oh. Well. I need you to make me not look like a momfrump, make it short but still able to wear in a ponytail when i go to the gym, stylish like i am older than 15 less than 30, and don't make my face look fat. Can you do this?" I am thinking she better for what they charge here...

"You do not have a fat face!" Um, lady, you didn't see my face 3 years ago! You don't realize what has happened to me since. Are my internal thoughts.

She goes about her work as I read a magazine article about how people are ok with infidelity now. The wives didn't want to be bothered with sex anyway, men get a mother for their children and an additional lover and don't have to beg their wives for sex, and the girlfriends get to focus on professional careers and have a boyfriend. The ideal situation for all. The article is making me a little sick to my stomach. Or it was this mornings breakfast.

"So, how do you feel?" The old lady keeps asking me when my hair has been chopped. Seriously, she has asked me this at least 3 times.

"oh. lighter?" what am I supposed to say here? since she keeps asking i am guessing that is not the right answer.

She finishes and I look in the mirror. I see...a big. brown. poofball. dang it. sigh.

"thanks. so, how am i supposed to tip you? can i charge it to the room?" i am trying to be all business so i can leave.

I desperately try to tame down the poofball on my way back up to the room. when i get inside the hotel room it is flatter. ok. now it isn't so bad. maybe i should have been a little more generous with the praise to the old lady. ahh. i will tip her well.