The “Wow” Factor

I love my hair stylist. She understands when I drag myself into the salon after letting my hair go for months on end, sporting hag hair and Walter Matthau eyebrows. There’s no chastising or guilt trips from her for letting myself go for so long. She smiles, reassures me, and pampers me.  In short, she’s a saint.

Today while she was performing yet another miracle on my head, my stylist went above and beyond. She turned into a combination therapist/priest/doting mom while I lamented yet again about how badly I’ve neglected myself.

Me: I can’t believe I’ve been walking around looking like this!

Stylist: You’ve been busy. It happens to the best of us.

Me: But there’s no excuse!

Stylist: You’ve been broke. You’ve been making sure bills are paid and the kids have what they need.

Me: But it’s not like you charge me what you’re worth! I mean, c’mon! Can you believe….OH MY GOD! I LOVE this style! It’s incredible! WOW!

…and that’s when it hit me. The reason I’ve habitually put off getting my hair styled on a regular basis. I’m addicted to the “Wow” factor.

I’ve been aware of my addiction for years. It was the biggest reason I had issues with keeping my house decluttered. See, the house would look messy. My husband would go to work. I’d go on a cleaning spree. He’d come home, look around in amazement, and say, “Wow! Everything looks fantastic!” and gaze at me like I was a goddess for the rest of the day.

Then came the day I got tired of the cleaning sprees. I started keeping the house in order on a regular basis. There were no more looks of amazement when my husband came home, but that was offset by no longer tripping on things, or searching for clean socks. Maintenance isn’t sexy, but it sure makes things look good.

I had no idea that I had transferred my “Wow” factor addiction from my home to my head until today. To break the cycle, I made an appointment with her before I left the salon, and marked my calendar. I also revelled in the look of amazement from my husband, and basked in the compliments I received from him and my teens.  Maintenance may not be sexy, but neither is sporting Walter Matthau eyebrows. 

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