There is nothing quite like the shiny happy faces my kids have when I pick them up from school. Expect maybe those hugs and kisses as they run into my arms, they tell me everything that
has transpired since breakfast in one breath. Mind you, this is clocked at a "words per minute" velocity that redefines the speed of sound as a much higher acceleration than the
one reported in the encyclopedia. I was so busy ooohing and ahhing over their art projects and book reports that I barely noticed the note pinned to my son's sweater. "It is imperative I see you today" was
handwritten and signed "Teresa McClintock, Head Mistress."
The last time I was sent to the
principal's office was thirty years ago when Sister Mary Catherine disapproved of my selection of Anne Margaret in "Kitten With a Whip" as the topic for my third grade class Parent's assembly speech on "Women We
Most Admire." I had met Ms. McClintock only once, and frankly she seemed like one tough cookie: sensible pumps, tailored suit, hair pulled back in a bun and
looking more like my mother than my contemporary. Nonetheless, I pulled myself together and knocked on her door.
Standing in front of her desk, her chair was turned away from me and
she was completely obscured by it's high back. "Oh my God," I thought, "what could my little angel have done that she can't even face me?"
"We have a serious situation here," she stated flatly. I was growing more nervous by the second and made Dorothy standing in
front of the Wizard of Oz seem like Joan of Arc. She snapped her chair around and faced me for the first time. I openly gasped at her appearance: her severe french twist was gone
and replaced by most unflattering spiky rounded bob. Before I could stop myself, I had blurted out "Oh my God, it's Sporty Spice!" Her face fell to her desk as I rushed towards her, suddenly realizing why I
was there. "My son did that? I'll kill him!" I exclaimed.
"No!" she whispered, raising her head between sobs,
"I actually paid to have this done! She was showing me a picture of Courtney-Throne Smith from People magazine. Help me, please!"
"Its great you found a hairdresser that can duplicate a style from a photo" I explained, then softly told her that the shape of the face is the starting point to
choosing a new hairstyle. Not being aware of that was her first mistake. Her second was choosing a stylist that did not seem to know any better. Whether your hair is straight, wavy, curly, fine,
medium, thick, bouncy or behaving flat as a pancake, the right cut on the wrong face will always be a hair-don't.