Points Of Contact In A Cold World

Yesterday evening on impulse I stopped into a cheap hair salon, and an irritable, world-weary beautician, who was belabored with working two jobs, slow recovery from her recent foot surgery, and some fairly serious family concerns, gave me a short, sassy, cute-as-a-bug haircut.  She told me stories from her life, but cut me off from speaking of my own life.  I think she is getting old and has already heard too many sad stories.  It was late in the evening and she was tired.  I told her to give me the best haircut she could considering how unevenly I had already cut it, and she delighted me with bangs that hide that new, large, ugly age spot that has materialized on my right forehead.  She took extra time to layer my ugly patches of dishwater blonde and gray into a head full of curls that will catch the sunlight.  Through gratitude and pity I tipped her too much for my budget.  I usually trim my hair myself, maintaining it at shoulder-length in a vain attempt to distract from my old lady's hump, but it is time to give up on that.  I now have an old lady's hump and a world-weary hunch to my shoulders.  I really like my new haircut.

This week I did my biannual wardrobe assessment, sorting out clothing that no longer suits my changing, aging body, and took them to the Christian collection bins.  I regret that I wear my clothing for so long before I release them to those less fortunate.  I have been trying to replace my dress slacks for months now, as I only had a few and they were well past their prime date.  As am I, but no need to accentuate it with a shabby wardrobe.  In the women's clothing department of Farm and Fleet, an older salesclerk helped me find pants.  Apparently they are no longer called dress slacks but are now sold as women's pants, which used to be what people called underpants, which may have been part of why I had such trouble finding them online, but I digress.  The clerk and I found "pants" in every color that I was looking for, sage, navy, taupe, gray, and black.  Then she found some more clothing on sale which I also bought, two pair of gray checkered pants, dark purple pants, and a lovely purple sports coat.  I am hoping that this shopping expedition will do it for me for life.  I am done with clothes shopping.  My wardrobe is complete.  The clerk and I spent so much time together, maybe an hour or so, because to her initial exasperation, she had to move the clothing racks for me so that I could drive my electric cart close enough to see the merchandise.  As we talked we discovered that we had suffered the same tragedy in life, the suicide of a loved one.  We cried together, then she said we needed a hug.  She was right, her hug was very comforting.  I told her, " Thank you for telling me, now I don't feel so alone."

Caption:  Points Of Contact In A Cold World

by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

 

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