I spent a total of 3 hours at the salon (SAH-lon, dahling) today, and I damn near burned my scalp off. I had neither the balls to do the mohawk, ala Mikey's (I had him linked, but I guess he is off limits, ladies! I will relink if I get the okay.) suggestion, nor the gumption to shave it all off, a la crazy highschool Mormon boyfriend (The kid made a 1580 on his SAT's. 1580!!! Did I mention that?) . I am however, in love with my new hairdresser, Rumi, who is just the cutest thing I have ever seen since those little girls with the big eyes in the manga magazines. AND, this little ball of cuteness asked me if I was in highschool. HIGHSCHOOL! Dear Lord I love this woman. She has hair down to her waist. When I said I wanted red, she said, "Like this?" and plucked one of the multicolored strands of her own hair from her head, and I said, "EXACTLY!" and she mixed it up. And rubbed it in, and chopped it off, and this is what we came up with, y'all. I think it is DE-FABULOUS, if I may pimp myself a little. And oh, I so think I am allowed after the god awful haircuts Momma and that bitch with the chest hair put me through before, but let's not hold grudges, mmm kay?
It's RED. Cabernet. And layered. And if you don't like it? Just lie, okay? I don't think you look fat/are losing your hair/were too drunk/are a bitch/did that on purpose.
The best part? Dh thinks it's like a new woman. I wonder if this new woman does dishes.
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