So, I went to my 'hair girl' this week on a mission. Since I'm trying new things with my clothes, why not take it one step further and do something new with my hair?
I try to live by the belief that the difference between a good haircut and a bad one is about two weeks, so as not to give too much importance to something so ephemeral and unimportant as hair. As a result, I've been ash blonde, golden blonde, white blonde, red, auburn and I'm-not-sure-what-that-was, not to mention my mother's description of my natural haircolour: groundhog. (my therapist says I'll be fine. eventually.) My hair's also been spiky and flowy and bobbed and pageboyed and flippy not to mention the cuts named after other people: the Jennifer Anniston, Princess Diana and Dorthy Hammill.
Today, goodbye blonde, hello, chocolate. I asked my girl to give me hair the colour of my roots, which can't rightfully be called roots any more since I haven't touched them with colour for such a long time. Just hair, a different colour than the rest. But surely 'groundhog' of olde has not morphed into this dark brown? She spent a lot of time trying to match it, so it must have done. Wow, what a big change.
I've received lots of compliments on it, and my sweetheart, of course, has made a joke about 'sleeping with a new woman', as he does every time I make a dramatic change.
This time though, he was just happy I wasn't Susan Powter.
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