A new expensive cut and color.

Allow me to be shallow for a moment.

I have a lot of grey. A LOT. Like Bride of Frankenstein at my temples — almost pure white. And I’m sick of coloring it because the color doesn’t hold and I like gray hair — especially white gray hair — but growing it out would be a nightmare what with the color on the rest of my hair, roots, etc. So I’m going to see if she can lighten me up enough to grow the gray hair out and just be somewhat blond-ish so that the gray is working for me rather than against me. I don’t know how it’ll go. Usually the hair people talk me out of this and force me into something dark with red undertones. I’m a pinky girl, ready to blush, so sometimes finding color that doesn’t clash with my face when laughing is a challenge. My mom has always liked me blond but the children have a horror of me looking any different than how they found me. (Brett would rather I skip the hair dye altogether, which reminds me that I should tell you all his feelings about women’s shoes sometime so you will know how perfectly matched we are.)

Have I mentioned that I hate getting my hair done? It’s the introvert thing again — chatting with a stranger while they mess with me. Yikes. Also why I don’t like massages, doctor’s appointments or even having someone help me with shoes. I like the results of these things — better looking hair, relaxation, clean bill of health and shoes that fit — but the dread is enough to make me a tad avoidant.

Really I ought to be a hermit. Somewhere where people don’t need haircuts, obviously.

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