There is something therapeutic about getting your hair cut. Seriously.

In some ways I think it's along the same lines as getting a massage. The repeated movement of the comb across your scalp, the whisper of the scissors in your ear, the heat from the dryer blowing across your neck. Sensual. (Token Male will find the dirty in that description. Lol.)

I hadn't slept well the past few nights (side effects from all the decongestants I've been taking for the "malaria" I think); Wednesday night I think I got about 3 hours, so needless to say, I was tired when I finally sat down in Gayla's chair yesterday evening. She went to work on my hair, and I almost nodded off.

Fortunately, Gayla is very talented, and she knows me, and I trust her judgment in all hair matters, so my zombie-like trance is no impediment to the cutting process. In fact, I think that one of the big draws to her studio is that it is one of the few places in my life that I have no problem letting go of all control. Last night she asked me what I wanted to have done, and I honestly said, "Whatever you want; just do something." Those who know me, and know my control-freak tendencies, know that this is completely out of character.

That's unfortunate when I think about it, it's much easier to breathe in Gayla's salon than in just about any other place in my life. She takes over, and I get to...just be. It's almost spiritual, in a Jesus-take-the-wheel-only-much-less-Nashville kind of way.

Then there is the emotional purge. Hair dressers are the next best thing to psychiatrists. They ask a lot of questions about your life, manage to listen without judgment, and some, like mine, even offer decent advice. That's probably why women are so loyal to their stylists; they've formed an almost sacred bond that strengthens with each visit to the chair.

So, an hour or so after entering, I left feeling better than I had felt in months. It's kind of like a snake shedding its skin, physically and psychologically. You go in looking and feeling all ratty, you come out completely coiffed and confident. Truly miraculous.

Even more miraculous: I managed to sleep almost 8 hours straight last night, didn't wake up once. Can't remember the last time that happened. Maybe I'm finally kicking this miserable cold. :)