Taking a Day...
Otherwise known as... So Far from 100%
Yesterday-- all week, really-- my tears were super-close to the surface. At the end of the day, I went by my salon and my stylist (as described in Hair... Grows) had an opening 30 minutes later. I went to DQ and had a mini-Blizzard (they are JUST the right size!) and returned to the salon just in time for my impromptu appointment. Rosemarie the Super Stylist looked at me. Didn't I just see you?
I wasn't supposed to be back until April.
Sometimes a girl just needs a haircut. This was one of those times. I've been growing my hair out so that I can have long and sexy hair like Kim Kardashian (who am I kidding... really???) but it has been weighing down my face. No spring at all. I needed a little life back in my hair, and I knew that Rosemarie was the woman to do it. The tears started before I even put my head back to get my hair washed. Don't hold it in, Jen. Just let it go. You need to.
Rosemarie really is the best hair stylist on the planet.
After washing my hair, Rosemarie worked her scissor-magic after we talked about what I was looking for. I left with bouncy hair, the teeniest bit shorter on the bottom, but layered and luscious everywhere else.
My treatment for the afternoon was far from over. I drove from the salon to Massage Envy, where I had an appointment with my favorite massage therapist, Marc, whom I last wrote about back in November, in Hurts So Good.... When he greeted me, he asked the standard question. How are you doing?
You know... a lot of people have been asking me that question and my answer has pretty much been... I'm... okay. I'm really tired of saying I'm okay.
I'm so not okay. And I can't stand that. I am used to high-functioning, crazy-busy living. You guys know... I'm an overachiever. I don't know how to be any other way.
And now... when Marc asked me that dreaded question, the words stuck in throat. After a few seconds of silence he looked at me, concern in his eyes. I managed to choke out, Not good. Can we just not talk today?
You want a nice, relaxing massage?
No. Deep tissue. Relaxing massages only make me more aware of the knots in my shoulders. I'd rather have a bit of pain, and walk out feeling extraordinary.
You got it. Marc left, I assumed the position, and when he returned, he gave me the best massage. And he didn't talk at all. It was my hour to be. I shed some tears, my nose ran a little, and left feeling so much better.
When I was finished with work yesterday, I told the girls that I needed to take a day to myself. Our job is demanding and consuming on so many levels.... to do it right you have to be 100%. I'm working so far from 100% right now; it scares me not knowing how long it's going to take me to get back to the overachiever everyone knows and loves. I also worry about my students getting the short end of the stick. They don't deserve that.
Taking some time to be good to myself will hopefully pay off in dividends. At the very least... it's a start.
Yesterday-- all week, really-- my tears were super-close to the surface. At the end of the day, I went by my salon and my stylist (as described in Hair... Grows) had an opening 30 minutes later. I went to DQ and had a mini-Blizzard (they are JUST the right size!) and returned to the salon just in time for my impromptu appointment. Rosemarie the Super Stylist looked at me. Didn't I just see you?
I wasn't supposed to be back until April.
Sometimes a girl just needs a haircut. This was one of those times. I've been growing my hair out so that I can have long and sexy hair like Kim Kardashian (who am I kidding... really???) but it has been weighing down my face. No spring at all. I needed a little life back in my hair, and I knew that Rosemarie was the woman to do it. The tears started before I even put my head back to get my hair washed. Don't hold it in, Jen. Just let it go. You need to.
Rosemarie really is the best hair stylist on the planet.
After washing my hair, Rosemarie worked her scissor-magic after we talked about what I was looking for. I left with bouncy hair, the teeniest bit shorter on the bottom, but layered and luscious everywhere else.
My treatment for the afternoon was far from over. I drove from the salon to Massage Envy, where I had an appointment with my favorite massage therapist, Marc, whom I last wrote about back in November, in Hurts So Good.... When he greeted me, he asked the standard question. How are you doing?
You know... a lot of people have been asking me that question and my answer has pretty much been... I'm... okay. I'm really tired of saying I'm okay.
I'm so not okay. And I can't stand that. I am used to high-functioning, crazy-busy living. You guys know... I'm an overachiever. I don't know how to be any other way.
And now... when Marc asked me that dreaded question, the words stuck in throat. After a few seconds of silence he looked at me, concern in his eyes. I managed to choke out, Not good. Can we just not talk today?
You want a nice, relaxing massage?
No. Deep tissue. Relaxing massages only make me more aware of the knots in my shoulders. I'd rather have a bit of pain, and walk out feeling extraordinary.
You got it. Marc left, I assumed the position, and when he returned, he gave me the best massage. And he didn't talk at all. It was my hour to be. I shed some tears, my nose ran a little, and left feeling so much better.
When I was finished with work yesterday, I told the girls that I needed to take a day to myself. Our job is demanding and consuming on so many levels.... to do it right you have to be 100%. I'm working so far from 100% right now; it scares me not knowing how long it's going to take me to get back to the overachiever everyone knows and loves. I also worry about my students getting the short end of the stick. They don't deserve that.
Taking some time to be good to myself will hopefully pay off in dividends. At the very least... it's a start.
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