“Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.” ~Author Unknown
I’ve made a huge mistake.
I’ve never been one to cry in my room after a bad haircut, or a bad color. Hair is hair. It will grow back. Don’t like the color, eh, you can live with it for 8 weeks. And truth be told, I’ve never really had a BAD experience. Well…except when I was in the 4th grade and Dad took me to get my haircut. It was basically a bowl cut, and it wasn’t pretty. But even then I didn’t cry, although I’m pretty sure my mom did.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, 4 days before our engagement pictures in Nashville with the beautiful and talented Kristine Neeley, I got my first bad color. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me. Like I said, hair is hair. But, I’m a little nervous that people will look at the engagement pictures and say, “Well that’s odd, who is that girl The Boy is dating?”
It all started out so innocently, and with a conversation I’m sure many other women (and possibly men) have around this time of year. There you are, sitting in the chair, wearing that ridiculous smock that reminds you of the bibs you had when you were a toddler, and the stylist asks, “So what are we doing today?” And that’s where it gets tricky. ”Well,” you say. ”I think I’d like to go a little darker.” It’s fall right, time to trade in the beachy blonde for a warm chocolate brown.
Maybe it is the moving around a lot, because you can’t really get used to having one person doing your hair, but I’ve learned to just trust the stylist. I’ll normally say a little bit about what I’d like and then just let them work their magic. However, this time, being that it was a couple days before the engagement session, I wanted to be extra careful. I brought a picture. And not a celebrity picture, you know the kind, when someone brings in a picture of Jennifer Aniston or Rhianna if you’re bold, and wants their hair to look just like theirs. It was a picture of me, from when I really loved how my hair was done.
One thing you learn in law school is to be to the point, short, concise and say no more than you need too. That just confuses people. But even with my short and sweet request, complete with Exhibit A, there must have been a miscommunication.
I gave her:
And after being cut, colored, and washed…I came out looking like this:
We’re talking jet black hair people. And as much as I like Jersey Shore…didn’t really plan on fist pumping in our engagement photos. Maybe God is punishing me for watching the Jersey Shore. That makes more sense, I deserve it
While I didn’t cry when I left, I may or may not have had a minor freakout in the car after I kept catching glimpses of myself in the rearview. Suddenly I found myself wondering what outfit would go best with an Ed Hardy hat. The color must have been slowly seeping into my head.
So friends, the bad news is…I have jet black hair that will not be toned down no matter how many time I scrub and shampoo it.
Good news is…My hair has never been cleaner, and I’m considering talking with The Boy to see if we can do a Jersey Shore theme for our photos. Plus, now you all can expect to see the Jersey Turnpike at the reception.
Happy Friday and fist pumps all around.
Love, your blast in a glass.