When how you appear reflects who you are, you are beautiful. -- Christopher HopkinsNot long after my second appearance on Oprah, a woman flew to Minneapolis from Virginia for a makeover. She was a fifty-four-year-old pastor's wife who had grown her hair for six months to 'give me something to work with.' We didn't click at first. She seemed to contradict herself, explaining she liked the length (which was almost to her shoulders and very layered) but wanted to look classy. She didn't want a color change (it was salt and pepper) but wanted to look more youthful. She wanted easy care and to look natural, but she enjoyed setting it in hot rollers and liked the feel of moving, voluminous hair. She then wanted me to tell her what I would do if she hadn't said anything.I told her that she should go short and blond. She dragged her feet and was extremely indecisive. There was more going on here than just a haircut. After much repetitious dialogue, I pulled out my last stop, which usually goes something like this: 'Well, you flew all the way here for a makeover. You can go home looking basically the same, or you can look great. Which do you want?''To look great,' she replied tentatively.'Then you need to let go and let me make it happen,' I said. She agreed, but with trepidation, which is not the best way to begin a new look. So, with more than a little concern, I spun her away from the mirror and began to cut her hair. First the nape, then the sides. When I turned her back toward the mirror, she began to cry.'What's wrong?' I asked while taking deep, cleansing breaths.'I don't know why I am crying,' she said.Having gained the attention of much of the rest of the salon, I tactfully tried to find out what was bothering her. 'I'm so embarrassed,' she whispered. 'Wait, I'm not embarrassed. I'm crying because I love it! It's as if you've unlocked part of me that has been missing for years!' With a sigh of relief, I turned to those who were pretending that they weren't really looking and said, 'Happy tears, tears of joy chat amongst yourselves.'Months later she sent me this letter:'Dear Christopher,On January 15 of this year, I came to your salon for the thrill and fun of a makeover. Little did I know you would work a miracle. Years ago, when I was a young girl, I remember walking into the local barbershop with instructions from my mother to get my hair cut and to make sure I told the barber that 'the back must be shingled.' He did it, and I walked out a captive to the haircuts of ease and lost to any sense of style. Over the years, some forty-six of them, a cry has gone on inside me for just the right look, the one that would suit who I was. As I sat in your chair that Saturday morning, you worked your expertise and I began to cry: You were working a magic that made me feel like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. I had been found. It's now almost two months since that day, and my sense of well-being has been constant. I am so grat Excerpted from Staging Your Comeback: A Complete Beauty Revival for Women Over 45 by Christopher Hopkins All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.