So yesterday I decided there was no point in dilly-dallying around the issue anymore. I called the spa that I still have a gift certificate for and said, "I'd like to make an appointment to get my hair done."

They said, "We have an opening at 3:30."

I said, "Today?"

My appointment was with Mandi. Mandi was running almost half an hour late, and when she came out to get me, I really wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, she had cute hair, simply styled. On the other, she was tall and very thin and very pretty, which I always find slightly intimidating. On the third, she had an engaging smile and a warm, firm handshake.

Oh, the hell with it. I'd already decided what I was going to do - why bother waffling?

I sat in the chair and took off my glasses and she said, "So, what are we doing today?"

I said, "Something new. I need you to tell me what."

I swear to you, if the room hadn't been full of other stylists and customers, Mandi would have squealed with glee. As it was, her entire face lit up. "REALLY?" I think that was the point that I lost all doubts.

"Well, if I don't like it, it'll grow back," I said. "Here are the rules: I'm willing to use a little mousse or gel, but I hate hairspray."

"Oh, I hate hairspray, too," Mandi said. "The woman I just finished, she had to remind me three times to use hairspray."

"And I don't own a curling iron or a blowdryer." This is a fib. I do, in fact, own a hairdryer. But I only use it about once every two years. My hair is very, very fine, and any kind of dry heat makes it brittle like straw. Thus, no styles that require curling irons or blowdryers.

Mandi didn't seem to care about the curling iron, but she was flabbergasted that I didn't have a blowdryer. I didn't take offense - I know I'm a little peculiar - but I just kept saying no, and eventually she moved on. "Okay. You have really long hair."

"Yes." It hasn't been cut for at least a year.

"Something different means cutting it. Can I cut it?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Well, I promised my husband I wouldn't shave it all off, but yes, by all means, cut it."

She was nearly dancing as she led me to the sink to wash it. She ooed and aahed over my hair. "It's fine, but you have so much of it! And it's in such great shape! I never see hair this long in such good condition!"

"No blowdryer," I said with a grin.

"Okay, point taken. But you've got curl, here! Just a little. If your hair wasn't so long, it would curl! Can I blowdry it? I just want to see what it looks like with the curl!"

"Yeah, sure, you can do it. As long as it'll look okay without the blowdryer."

"Yes, absolutely, I promise. I'm so excited!"

She got out the scissors. As she worked, we talked about babies - hers is only about five months younger than Penny. We talked about husbands and jobs and hobbies.

"I'm keeping it conservative," she said. "If I knew you better, I might've cut it shorter, but I didn't want to scare you."

"Maybe next time," I said.

She worked a tiny dab of gel into my hair and then got out the blowdryer. When she was done, I felt kind of like a poodle, but I liked it.

I might even go an inch or so shorter next time.

(This morning I washed it as usual, and put a little gel in it and messed it up again, but didn't blowdry it. It looks much less fluffy. But still cute. Yay, Mandi!)

--Liz