today was the day i had an appointment with christianne, the miracle worker, hairdresser who was going to undo the work of michel, the butcher of lucca. i was scheduled to meet simona, my new best friend, to go to have my hair cut by her hairdresser, christianne. simona had assured me that she would come with me, translate, and hold my hand throughout the entire ordeal. she had had a disastrous hair cut over a year ago, and she swore that christianne had saved her life. i was all set to go. hair wise, i could do with a little life saving.
i arrived at ten a.m. at simona’s office, only to be told that she was not due in until noon. o.k. i was off to see christianne, the non-english speaking hairdresser, by myself. once again, i was putting my hair in the hands of a person i could not communicate with, and one who was wielding a sharp instrument at that. christianne cut and i prayed. the longer i live here, the more my hair falls out, the closer to god i am growing.
when she was done, and what was left of my hair was blown out, i couldn’t help but think that i looked a lot like a fifties housewife in a commercial for tide. i looked in the mirror and my mother stared back at me. this is a middle-aged woman’s haircut. i was appalled, and then i had to stop and remind myself that, if i was looking middle-aged, that was a good thing since i am about as far from middle-aged as one could be without being dead.
howard, who i think should be declared legally blind, immediately told me my hair looked great. what else could he say, he is stuck with me for another seven weeks. we have been together twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the past five weeks. him, telling me my hair looked like shit, would be a form of suicide that he is having way to good a time to even consider. it must be really hard for a completely bald man to have a great deal of empathy for a woman who oinsists on showing him every hair that falls out of her head, on a regular basis.
we have just woken from our afternoon naps. i went into the bathroom, hoping that i could brush my hair long, but alas, there is so little hair to brush. the city is waking up now from it’s afternoon slumber. the sun is shining and we are going out for a walk. perhaps a little retail therapy, and a cup of gelato, will make the world seem a bit brighter.