On Tuesday of this week I woke up a little blue.

Blue Morning

Blue Morning

I know you’ve all been there at least once in your life, where the minute you open your eyes, the clouds begin to gather. In an effort to avoid a day of depression, I got out of bed and planned my day. On the agenda was a haircut at my favorite salon. Ladies, you know how getting our hair done is almost as much fun as a new outfit? Well, not today. I’ve been taken behind the woodshed.

I entered the salon and my stylist greeted me. She invited me to the shampoo room and as I entered, I sneezed. She turned to me and asked about my having the sniffles. I explained that no, it was nothing contagious, I have chronic sinus trouble. What happened next is nothing short of hilarious, if you’re a sadist.

Of course, she had no idea what type of clouds had gathered over my head that morning, but the thoughts that were trying to out-shout my cheerful mood, included those that haunt me most often. As most of you know, I struggle with my weight. I LOVE fashion and yet rarely feel good in my clothes because of my weight. So in addition to gloomy weather, these were some of the thoughts going through my head.

It seems that my stylist has had an epiphany concerning nutrition and how our choices affect not only our own health but our loved ones who care for us in our old age. In a nutshell, my choices that have caused me to be overweight and unhealthy (due to my sneeze) will ultimately cause my family heartache as they care for me in the future. Mind you, I said this in just a few words. She lectured me for 35 minutes on everything from exercise to the affects of wheat and dairy on the body. Ultimately, the question that kept going through my mind was, “how does she know whether I eat dairy, wheat or cardboard?”

I’m not upset with her. I know she’s probably right and it’s very likely that I needed to hear it. However, it’s just a little unpleasant to experience the new intolerance in person. But… the cloud has lifted as my daughter so eloquently put her in her┬áplace… “she’s only your therapist in theory, and all she needed to say was, bless you!”

Thank you, my wiser-than-my-stylist, daughter.