Yesterme, Yesteryou, Yesterday

Lunch from Deniz Restaurant

I was to get my haircut on this day at the hipster salon.  I go early so as not to be shamed by the youth.  Avoiding the glaring looks from young, plump-fleshed girls who have their whole lives in front of them.  My stylist is ten years under me but she is getting there, so she also faces the challenge of being in this place, this older than normal place.  You can't gauge it by your aunts or mothers.  Life at 62 was so different then.  I don't know how to go forward anymore than these 20 year olds sitting in these same chairs, cutting their abundant locks.  My hair is thinning and acts up all summer.  I remember thinking, when I was their age, that all women my age now looked on the verge of breakdowns.  Stressed, tired, and frantic. Worry lines dominated their facial expression, like mine does now.  Their smile had a tentativeness to it. Where did it go, that glow that I once knew?  My mother in law says she feels the same way inside as she did at 30 and I feel the same.  We get shocked sometimes when we look in the mirror, how our body and face do not match our mind and heart.   You can only hope the live experience can emanate the real soul lurking inside these aging vessels. 

I came in armed with my few internet pics that my stylist always glances at but she is more concerned with getting her hands in my head and decided which way to go feeling her way around. 

A Haircut and a shag, or in this case, just a shaggy haircut.