In between jobs (yay, I got a new one!) I got a haircut. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do: new job, new me. I bought a trusty Groupon haircut, and was on my merry way. I didn't even think much about what I wanted. I always get a bob that's longer in the front than it is in the back. I think it makes me look regal and thins out my face a bit. However, I'm down for something new: new job, new haircut, new me.Read More
Anyways, I once went to a hairdresser and she told me I had wonderful hair. It's something I've heard before. My hair is thin and straight. It's easy to mange and has natural color fluctuations, which is nice. It also grows really fast, can hold a curl and is generally healthy. It's lovely. Whatever.
I woke up one morning and decided to dye by hair. I went to Kroger, found a Revlon box on sale for $2, so I decided I mine as well go for it. I studied all the color options, and went with "brown," after careful consideration. It seemed safe.
Choosing your hairdresser is serious business. I realized this when I switched over to a salon that wasn’t a cheap in-and-out place aka a man’s haircut was over $20.
Growing up, my mom decided who cut my hair. Usually it was this Turkish woman whose broken English I couldn’t understand, but that ended the day she cut my mom’s hair too short and my mom hurled some frozen hotdogs at the kitchen floor, she was so upset. (My mom is embarrassed I’ve retained this memory; probably more embarrassed that I’m blogging about it now.) Then my mom snipped my brother’s, dad’s, and my hair for a while – until I decided I didn’t want a buzz cut. Then we settled on a lovely woman whose chair I looked forward to warming.Read More