Hairdos and Don't I Know You?

My niece was giving a talk in church before leaving on her mission to Brazil.  She called me a few nights before that Sunday to ask if I would sing with her other aunt.  I said yes, chatted a minute, then hung up the phone.

As soon as I hung up, I remembered what it was like standing next to her aunt while a lot of people looked at us and compared how much I could never measure up.  I mean, this woman I'd be singing with is gorgeous.  Gorgeous like Farrah Fawcett.  Gorgeous like any other blonde model (I really did try to think of the name of another one).

Any woman standing next to this paragon would take a hit on their self-esteem.

I immediately called my usual hair stylist (a.k.a. my sister) and told her I needed help.  She cut and layered my hair, and then showed me how to style it so it would fall in luscious waves instead of the frizzy curls I usually have.  Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with curly hair, but I've had the exact same hair style for like 8 years.  Curl, curls, curly.

The day of the song came.  I did my hair all sleek and glossy.  I didn't think it would look too different from my normal do, but I was proven wrong.

I got WAY more comments about my hair than about the singing.  Way. More.

Beautiful Aunt and I sang our duet with our niece playing the violin.  We made it through and I walked back to my seat in the back because we always sit in back.  On the way, I passed my Mom and Dad where they were sitting and smiled to them.

My dad, bless his heart, leaned over to my mom and said, "Was that Mandi?"

Either Dad is losing his sight as well as his hearing, or a hairstyle really makes that much of a difference.

Who knew?