But here is me this afternoon:
Dishwater blonde / brown with damaged streaks from black-and-green growout.
This evening: Dark red-brown; attempt at rockabilly bangs.
I sort of hate getting my hair done, but am not willing anymore to do it myself (after many, many years of DIY). There is some way the whole process is very undignified – a public shorning, wearing a plastic tent, being forced to listen to the loud nasally RAZR PHONE conversation of the hairdresser. I also do not and cannot enjoy the trashy celeb magazines. I mean, they aren’t even “guilty pleasure” fun for me at all. They make me itchy, and I’m already kind of wired. I’d meant to bring my knitting but was late because babydaddy was late in relieving me – so I had to thumb through “Real Simple”, the least offensive rag there. Ick.
I did get a nice chilled glass of boxed wine in a “fancy” glass. Wheee!