And what kind of day did you have?
Let me tell you...I have my 20-year class reunion coming up in a couple of weeks and after polling my friends and family - it was decided I should invest in getting my hair colored and highlighted. I wanted some more pizazz, a little more chunky highlight - a declaration of "I'm YOUNG!" to my former classmates. My exact words to my stylist (who, I am here to tell you, shared that she has not had a class reunion yet...) were "not as subtle as usual but not too funky". Um, I came out looking like this...
Wow. I thought I was going to throw up on my gown. I didn't say anything - well, more like I couldn't. My stylist, thankfully, said "wow, these are brighter than you wanted, huh?" I was glad she noticed this on her own (after an excruciatingly long blow dry and cut) - though the blood draining out of my face may have given me away. She was able to work it out but it was a scary hour...I read a book while I waited to see the new results, but I don't think I comprehended a word. I left relieved. That is not typically the feeling I am looking for as I am striding out of the salon, but I'll take it.
I'm pretty sure I will need to get a new hairstylist, or go into therapy for PTSD after each visit.
I have quilting and spinning to report but I must rest after my tumultuous day at the salon.