So, lately I've been booking my hair appointments for Friday nights, and it's really great. My appointment is usually around 7ish, so I leave Ken at home with the kids and get my hair cut and colored. The salon I go to does complimentary mini-facials and make-up applications, which is fabulous because I'm totally inept with make-up. Bottom line, I come out of that place looking fabulous, if I don't say so myself. Well, better than I normally do anyways. Inevitably I come home all excited to show off my new look and Ken is always dead asleep. Tonight he didn't even move when I turned on the light. So here I am sitting at my computer in full make-up with brand new RED hair, and no one here to admire it.
Truthfully, I'm a little nervous about the red hair. I mean it's REALLY red and we have a silent auction for Jack's preschool tomorrow night. I really hope I don't look like a hooker, because, well, that would be bad. I think there is some sort of law about room moms not looking like hookers. It's probably in the school hand-book. I need opinions people and no one is going to get a glimpse of my new do until tomorrow. This sucks.
Umm...so it turns out that the whole thing about having more fun with a haircolor must only apply to blondes. Ouch. Ken hates the hair. I think the word despise was even used at some point. And in the broad light of day it is a little, well, drastic.
And the truth is I've been down this road before. I might not have mentioned this earlier, but I'm a little adventurous when it comes to my hair. The sort of adventurous that tells hairstylists "just do whatever you think will look good." Now this has lead to some great styles in the past and some really not so great styles. In my defense, I totally qualified my statement last night with "as long as it doesn't make me look like a hooker."
I'm still hopeful that it will fade and look absolutely fabulous in a couple weeks, but this is really not a good development for this evening's festivities. Instead of a soccer mom, I'm going to look like Diablo Cody, and probably not in a good way. The worst part is that my in-laws are coming over to babysit, so there is inevitably going to be the "oh, your hair...it's..um..different. Did you do it yourself?" Ugh.
In happier news, I had a dream that Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick) was performing in a concert and totally coming on to me. WITH red hair, I might add. Of course it was not happening at the benefit tonight. Even my subconscious recognizes how unlikely that would be.
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