You're reading the blog of a celebrity, and you didn't even know it. Heck, I didn't even know it!

I sat down in Mary's chair just like I did every two months since I moved up here.

"The usual?" she asks into the mirror.

"The usual," I reply. I have to fight instinct not to turn my head when I'm talking to the hairdresser; it's too odd talking to someone's reflection in a mirror.

Mary moves to start spraying and combing and pinning, but then pauses. "Or would you like to try something different?"

I sense that she wanted to, so I ask her what she had in mind.

She swishes my hair a little bit, then promptly reaches into her bag and pulls out a People magazine (or one of its sisters), flips a couple pages, and points to a blonde who's reaching down to pet a dog or baby, I forget which. "Something like this maybe." It's like she saw the picture and wanted to cut that style and was waiting for someone to agree to it.

"Sure," I say. Mary looked like she would have fun doing it, so why not? It's summertime, and I'm kind of envious of guys who buzz their hair off.

I ask Mary who the celebrity was, and she tells me it is Victoria Beckham, the former Posh Spice. "Really?"

Once in high school - no, I never listened to the Spice Girls, even if my tastes then were very different from now and slightly embarrassing - an elementary schooler had overslept his bus stop, and so he had ended up in our high school, woken up by loud, big kids loading the bus. He was led off, and cried and looked so scared, and the girls crowded around him and tried to comfort him while his parents were called. He attracted quite a large crowd, and I was on the edge of that crowd, trying to get my peek of him. I saw the little boy, and realized he was staring straight at me and had stopped crying. You know the moments when you're not sure someone is looking at you, but they are looking in your direction? Well, I wasn't sure, so I ducked and peeked around someone else, and sure enough he was craning his neck and following me.

One of the girls beside him had noticed, too, and asked who he was looking at. "The Spice Girl!" he replied in a voice with a touch of awe. I remember that moment because all eyes turned on me, and in high school, I was so self-conscious that that was the last thing I wanted.

I told Norin the story of the haircut and the little boy's celebrity sighting on our way to Gainesville. Norin brought it up again when we were all eating hor'deurves at Erin's reception. Randomly, she pops the question, "Oh, Ellen, guess who's haircut Lily has!"

And Ellen, spare with her words, always frank and confident, replies, "Posh Spice." Like there could be no mistaking it. Like it was the easiest question on the test. I'd never gotten a haircut sported by a celebrity before, much less have someone recognize it.

Norin was impressed, too, and told her my high school story. Ellen turned to me and asked if I knew which Spice Girl the little boy thought I was. "Nope."

"Let's see," and she ticks them off her fingers and narrows it down to - guess - Posh Spice. Are you serious? I actually looked her up on the internet when I got home, and well, I'm bewildered. ;-)