
This weekend, I did something drastic.
I went into a salon*, picked a shade, and told a woman I'd never met to make my strawberry blond(ish) locks a deep shade of brunette.
The results are somewhat darker than what I'd chosen. (Read: Nearly black.)
The stylist's first words to me, before I even commented? It's not my fault! That's the color you picked! (Way to make me feel confident and fall in love with the look, lady.)
It's a dramatic change. And, because it isn't exactly what I was going for, the experience verged on the traumatic, but I think that's reigned in now. It's definitely growing on me.
Most of my friends say they like it. Travel Buddy said it suited me. You've read some of the things Travel Buddy says to me; he's not one to mince words or give false compliments.
So, why am I telling you this? Because some people I encounter almost daily didn't listen to their mommas when they were doling out cliched advice.
(With a look of horror) Why did you do that?!?
(Incredulously) Belle, what did you do to your hair? I liked it before! When will you change it back?
(Deadpan) It makes you look older. I don't know if that's what you were going for...
(With a screwed up look on her face) You like it?! Errr... okaaaaaaay...
Essentially, I want to cut these people. And to start telling them what I really think of their hair/outfits/faces.
But two wrongs don't make a right, or whatthehellever. So I'm not. I'm just whining to a bunch of imaginary people who don't even know what my hair looks like. :)
Thanks for putting up with it.
* I'd never been to a salon before for coloring.