I am often jealous of other people's lives. It is not because I dislike my own (it's pretty fabulous most days) but because of how different they are from my own.
My stylist friend, for example, is a beautiful girl who in the past year has dated a UFC fighter, a tattoo artist, a lawyer, and a drummer for a famous punk band. She went to jail the day before she met the President of the United States, was the stylist for a major concert tour, and lives pay-check to pay-check most of the time. Another friend has three beautiful children, married her college sweetheart, and works full-time as a nurse.
I know a guy in a professional improv group, a woman who designs sets for haute couture runway shows, and a woman who is in a different state or country every month consulting with businesses. I just met a guy taking a secret post in Washington D.C. for the next three years and a woman who is a specialist in alternative autism treatments.
I enjoy my life. I have a lot of fun and wouldn't change the decisions I've made that have brought me here. Sometimes though, I think it would be fun to be someone else for a week or so- to live a life completely different from mine with different responsibilities. Be a mom, a rock-star, a secret agent, or a comedian. Having a new set of problems and responsibilities would be a blast - at least for awhile.
Showing posts with label stylist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stylist. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Yoga
The next day in Germany was fabulously relaxed. S. invited me to her yoga class. I have been doing yoga for about six years now, so I felt pretty confident that I wouldn't embarrass myself. Pride before a fall and all that.
Until this experience, I never realized how much yoga involves focusing on the directions from the instructor. She tells you when to breathe, where to focus your energy, how to balance your weight, and where your strength should be focused. She was a fantastic instructor - beautiful with a very smooth, soothing voice. Unfortunately for me, I still didn't speak German. I felt like such a novice. I had to look around to see where we were in the program. My sun salutations were off, I couldn't center myself, and my breathing exercises were crap. Completely humiliating.
S. made me an appointment with her stylist for later that afternoon. Eight weeks without a trim and my ends were looking a little rough. We stopped at a nursery first to pick up flowers for her garden. For some reason, I had this notion that Germany was cold like the upper Midwest. Nuremberg, however, is not. It has a very mild climate; they can even grow lemon trees and magnolias in the yards! I am so jealous. I miss warm climates. I have been trying (unsuccessfully) to grow a magnolia for the past four years. They have a variety that does better in cold climates, but I'm not interested in tiny pink flowers. I want the huge white blossoms and the dark glossy leaves. Someday. For now I comfort myself with jasmines and gardenias, much to DH's dismay.
We ran to the grocery store, grabbed goodies for a picnic lunch, and then picked up the girls from school. S.'s stylist was a doll. Thomas (or maybe Tomas) was a flamboyant artist with a closely shaven head and uber stylish glasses. His English was terrible but still far better than my German. I let him have free rein - always the best option when you can't tell someone what you want. Just go with it. Halfway through the cut, he started talking rapidly in German then disappeared around the corner. He came back wearing a wig that made him look far more emo and far less hipster. I want to import him to the States.
We went to dinner at an Italian place with a friend of S.'s that evening, an opera singer. She was also lovely. Really, I've been quite lucky in my travels to meet such fascinating, talented, friendly people.
Until this experience, I never realized how much yoga involves focusing on the directions from the instructor. She tells you when to breathe, where to focus your energy, how to balance your weight, and where your strength should be focused. She was a fantastic instructor - beautiful with a very smooth, soothing voice. Unfortunately for me, I still didn't speak German. I felt like such a novice. I had to look around to see where we were in the program. My sun salutations were off, I couldn't center myself, and my breathing exercises were crap. Completely humiliating.
S. made me an appointment with her stylist for later that afternoon. Eight weeks without a trim and my ends were looking a little rough. We stopped at a nursery first to pick up flowers for her garden. For some reason, I had this notion that Germany was cold like the upper Midwest. Nuremberg, however, is not. It has a very mild climate; they can even grow lemon trees and magnolias in the yards! I am so jealous. I miss warm climates. I have been trying (unsuccessfully) to grow a magnolia for the past four years. They have a variety that does better in cold climates, but I'm not interested in tiny pink flowers. I want the huge white blossoms and the dark glossy leaves. Someday. For now I comfort myself with jasmines and gardenias, much to DH's dismay.
We ran to the grocery store, grabbed goodies for a picnic lunch, and then picked up the girls from school. S.'s stylist was a doll. Thomas (or maybe Tomas) was a flamboyant artist with a closely shaven head and uber stylish glasses. His English was terrible but still far better than my German. I let him have free rein - always the best option when you can't tell someone what you want. Just go with it. Halfway through the cut, he started talking rapidly in German then disappeared around the corner. He came back wearing a wig that made him look far more emo and far less hipster. I want to import him to the States.
We went to dinner at an Italian place with a friend of S.'s that evening, an opera singer. She was also lovely. Really, I've been quite lucky in my travels to meet such fascinating, talented, friendly people.
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