“Breathe,” that is what I keep trying to tell myself amidst my crazy life as a mama of seven beautiful babes. “Self-care,” I’ve heard myself preach the importance of it to my pre-teen daughter and to my patients who I care for in the hospital a million times. So as the collection of dust mounted on the silver envelopes of my now two unused Breathe Salon and Day Spa gift certificates, and my daily drive past their ever-so inviting window treatments called my name, my summer fizzled chlorine-damaged hair could take no more and I decided that I WAS finally making an appointment for me. The only appointment that a girl can make that will last a couple hours, but will be sure to rejuvenate her for at least six solid weeks, if she chooses wisely. I am no beauty expert, but I know what I like, and I do have a gift for creative flare that’s easy on the eyes.

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