(A picture-less post, because I am having a bad hair week that will hopefully end on Wednesday.)
I know, I know. My friends will say that I am not necessarily a laid back person. Admittedly, I am a bit on the do-it-all-or-nothing-stay-up-half-the-night-be-excited-about-life-or-forget-it kind of girl, but I am talking about things like how messy my home is, or getting the car washed on a regular basis...Let me say that I am pretty laid back about those kinds of things... I don't usually sweat the small stuff...er..at least I don't sweat most of the small stuff.
Just don't mess with my kids...or my hair.
This past week I discovered that I am not as laid back as I always thought I was, when I went to "get my hair did" as my daughters both like to say. First off, let me say it was really my own fault. Well, mostly it was. My latest stylist (Number seven since I moved to the Pacific Northwest nine months ago.) is a very nice early 40 something goth looking chick with heavy black eyeliner, who wears her hair back combed. Back combed very high.
Anyway, she seems to want to change my color and "high-lights" at each and every appointment, (this was my third time with her.) even though I am sitting in her chair telling her I like the color just fine as it is, thankyouverymuch.
Well, this week she was "feeling" that I was too "warm" and needed "low-lights". I told her I liked it fine already, but with that being said, it was only hair after all, and (I bragged) I am a pretty flexible gal. (Or so I thought.) 'Nuff said. Ms. Goth-hair-stylist whips up her potions and goes to town on my head. An hour later after she has shampooed me, she spins me around to see my wet hair as she prepares to work her magic with the blow dryer. Even wet, I could see what I can only describe as tiger stripes in my hair.
I informed her I was officially afraid, which I have never before said to a hairdresser. Never.
She laughed and said to relax, it would be great.
She finished me up and...it wasn't great. It was...kind of..striped. Dark brown, strawberry-ish blonde, platinum. So not me.
I hoped it was maybe just the lighting. I drove to my daughter's home where I was given her verdict..."not good."
Daughter number two gave her opinion..."not all that bad."
I needed the opinion of someone that would really be honest, so, I ran over to Camas Antiques to get a good friend's opinion. (I figured, if anyone knows a bad hair color job, it's your best gay guy friend.) He looked at me and, after telling me to turn all the way around..slowly...announced.. "it looks great...if you're trying to look like a punked out 14 year old."
Well, that said it all. I went home, and called the salon. I go back in on Wednesday for some..er...modifications. Wish me luck.