This week, while the rest of the world fretted over the unemployment rate, government debt in Europe and the possible dismantling of the Big 12, I was having a full-tilt tizzy over my crowning glory.
It was a haircut that — through no fault of my wonderful stylist — went horribly, horribly wrong.
The truth is, I have only myself to blame. I chose to abandon a perfectly good, easy-breezy style for a short, high-maintenance do, simply because I felt the compulsion to change something up.
Needless to say, the “do” became a big fat “don’t” three hours after the blowout.
Impulse. It’ll come back to bite you, sure as the sun will rise in Norman, Okla.
Caecilius Statius, the 200 B.C. Roman comic poet whom I’ve never heard of until five minutes ago, once said, “Grant us a brief delay. Impulse in everything is but a worthless servant.”
Oh, Caecilius. Where were you last Tuesday when I said, “Bangs trim be damned! Chop it all off!”
I have suffered the consequences of unchecked compulsion my whole life. Heck, all you need do is step into my closet to view innumerable pieces of proof:
There’s the iridescent purple shrug I purchased in 2009, convinced, for the moment, it would soon become the most versatile staple in my wardrobe.
How about those button-fly, low-rise jeans I bought and removed tags from before realizing that a middle-aged woman wearing pants that take more than five seconds to undo is an accident waiting to happen?
My shoe rack is stacked with incriminating evidence of whims gone wild — platform flip-flops, gladiator sandals, crimson-colored ankle boots.
And, don’t even mention the words, “Today’s Special Value.” My kitchen and bathroom cabinets overflow with mixing bowls, small appliances and entire skin-care lines, all compliments of QVC.
(The sleep-deprived cannot be expected to resist products with names like “Pores No More,” “HydroExtreme” and “Miracle Worker,” especially at 3 in the morning. You got insomnia? All bets are off. Those are the rules.)
Grocery stores are the worst places for the rash and the reckless. In fact, according to a reliable source I forgot to verify (didn’t get much shut-eye last night), impulse buys can account for up to 67.7 percent of total grocery store purchases. Seems we’re all suckers for “Dollar Days” bins full of ice cube trays, extension cords and rubber spatulas. Not to mention anything bearing the phrase “William and Kate.”
And now, because of the miracle of personalized online marketing (thanks a lot, Google!) one thoughtless purchase can lead to another and another and another!
Ah, but as Hamlet once said: “Therein lies the rub.”
Shopping channel, supermarket and especially Internet impulse buys are over in a matter of moments: Pick, click… thank you, chick. If we were only to grant ourselves a brief delay, as suggested by that old funny man, Caecilius, our closets wouldn’t be overrun by animal print jumpsuits with the price tags still on them.
So, what’s my excuse for the impetuous haircuts, you ask? After all, beauty appointments are booked days in advance, offering plenty of time to come to my senses.
I can’t fully explain the phenomenon. But, after a lifetime of impulsive, bad hair choices: the Twiggy cut, four – count ’em – FOUR tragic perms, too-short Cleopatra bangs and my latest look that a friend’s husband aptly described as “lady golfer” (not that there’s anything wrong with that), I chalk it up to hair-trigger decisions made under the deceptively flattering lights of a salon.
Yes, yes. I know there are more important things going on in the world: A 9.1 percent national joblessness rate, the potential default of Greece, the University of Oklahoma’s pending decision to bail, or bond with its Big 12 brethren who wait with bated breath.
But, don’t talk to me about global priorities. As my mother once said (and, believe me, Caecilius and Hamlet have nothin’ on Momma): When your hair is right, all is right with the world.