I can't find a good picture of what I'd like to do with my darn hair.
I'm going to my favorite Aveda salon in two weeks and getting a cut and color.
Why do I love this salon?
-When I walk in the door they offer me a glass of cheap wine. I like cheap wine.
-Their shampoos and conditioners smell like nature (in a good way)
-I get a complimentary hot-towel treatment and neck/head massage with Blue Oil.
-I get a complimentary hand massage while I'm getting my hair cut
-They actually know how to style hair after they've cut it
-Tipping is strictly prohibited (woo hoo!)
-I always leave feeling like I spent a day at the spa.
-I always leave loving my hair.
I'm getting blond highlights again in because my gentleman prefers blondes. Who knew? Not me. That is, not until Sunday when I hung him up by his pinky toes and made him tell me what color of hair he likes best. It's hard to get straight answers from the guy, since I've conditioned him to fear questions like that. I think he was afraid the conversation would go something like this:
Me: Honey, do you like blondes or brunettes better?
Honey: Hmm, I like blond hair.
Me: You hate my hair?!?!?!
Honey: No! That's not what I said!
Me (getting screechier): Yes you did! I heard you say it!
Well, this time it wasn't a set up. I really wanted to know. And he told me he liked blond hair (careful not to say "blond women") with this addendum: "I like your hair no matter what."
Now that's unconditional love.
But as far as the cut goes, I'm not really sure. I'll probably clean up what I have right now, but I WON'T go short.
I may have been married 18 months, but I am still susceptible to "the newlywed haircut" label. Heck, I would say it about myself still.
You know, that chin-length bob that, like, EVERY SINGLE newlywed wife gets within a year (or two) of getting married.
Well I ain't doing it. I just ain't.
I'm not ready to look thirty-something yet.
And I think that's why they do it. They have this whole psychological issue with looking young and getting married, and they want to feel more mature, so...they decide to do the soccer-mom makeover.
I really hope I'm not stepping on any toes here. Maybe I should just stop.
Hey you, I likey your hair!