The hair

Why "a fresh haircut" made it to my "Highlights" list (see previous post).

Confession: I was never "in the know" when it came to my hair.

Cut me some slack: I grew up on the plantation where the girls I hung out with were horses, and they couldn't share their secrets on how they got their great manes. When I was ten, I asked my aunt Melinda to cut my hair (shh, please don't laugh too loud) "short in the front and long in the back" (mullet, anyone?). Sadly, that haircut didn't make me cry as much as the Sinead O'Connor cut I got back in seventh grade. Old habits die hard: in college, I ran to my friend Natalie's dorm room one morning right before class - with desperation and scissors in hand - to straighten up the style I'd chopped late the night before.

laugh.laugh.laugh.

Thankfully for the rest of us, I've gotten some help along the way. My friend Sadie in England took me to the salon and "ordered" the highlighting I needed (I didn't yet have "Warm honey ash" in my vocabulary).

Enter Erik. Growing up in the metropolis of Toronto, he's been to the salon more than I have. I love God's sense of humor in giving me this man who cares for me in so many ways. Before our wedding, he called a salon in Charleston on my behalf, asking for a "senior stylist" to give me the hair I wanted.

So, fast forward to present day, and - while I don't try my own hand with the shears - I have fallen prey to the dreaded look that says, "Hello, I'm a mommy. All I could manage today, and every day, is a ponytail." AAHHH!

So while my brilliant stylist Hillary has left the country to live a fairytale life in Germany with her "Mann" Christoph, I asked Jess to help my hair say what I'm wanting it to say: "Hello! I am Sarah, Erik's wife!! and we happen to have three children."

I think she did just that.

Fresh hairstyle? Check!