A Change of Pace

"Oh, Jo, how could you? Your one beauty."
— Amy March in Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Me (back), my dad, my sister, Carrie, and my Grandma Haskell of the pin-curls 1980

I've always had pretty hair.  I've worn it long most of my life.  Long is easy, and cheap.  And pretty.  Then, more a decade ago, I decided there was nothing sadder than a fat old lady with stringy hair hanging down her back, clinging to the last vestiges of a glory long past—rather like the wisps of hair still clinging to her head.

So, I cut it.  My stylist, Melanie Knapke, suggested a bob.  Long hair and short both at once.  Melanie is very good.  She's also very expensive, so the length of my hair has waxed and waned with my finances.  For a while it was very long again.  I was content.

The other day, Dallas and I went shopping because I had a job interview and my clothes no longer fit.  I knew I have lost quite a bit of weight over the past year or so, but I hadn't gone down a dress size.  I had gone down two.  And, I got into a skirt a size that I haven't been able to wear for nearly 30 years.  I tried it on by mistake, but I even got it buttoned and zipped.  I didn't buy it, but I felt like one of those Progresso soup commercials.  It fits!  It fits!! [happy dance].  I didn't call Progresso.  I just told Desireé.