Setting an appointment took me a long time. That actually turned out to be a good thing, because since my birthday I've had to get my driver's license renewed and had to take a new photo for it; I've made a fund-raising speech for the food bank; and yesterday's ribbon cutting for the new food bank facility was crawling with press and the members of the food bank's Board of Directors. But I had an appointment to get it bleached this morning, and while I had cold feet yesterday, I went through with it.
I had no idea my hair was so red. When my hair lightens in the sun it gets blond; No, whose hair is darker than mine, lightens to red, as does his beard. The stylist saw it right away and said she could see the Irish in me (which almost no one comments on, perhaps because I look so much like my father's mother). It took almost an hour to get the orange out.
My original plan was to color it purple tonight but I am totally digging this color. When she asked, I told Angela that it must have something to do with a midlife crisis, because I've done some odd stuff with my hair in the last two years, such as shaving it off a couple times. I told her I didn't know what I would do with it next, if I would touch it up or color it something else eventually (the folks at the food bank are expecting purple). I think I was testing to see how annoyed she might be if I use some off-the-shelf product and have my husband run his hands through my hair with it. She said that she likes "punky" looking hair and advised wearing it kind of spiky.
I sent this photo to Zirpu and he called to tell me I "look like an old biddy." I need a new husband.
Weird expression due to trying to avoiding squinting into the sun
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