I embrace color. A wander through my home is evidence, red, gold, turquoise, it is invigorating. The fabrics I am drawn to, the skin tone of my daughter, my personal way with a garden, the rainbow contents of my closet, and most importantly, my hair are all evidence that I love color.
I subscribe: “Be daring with color, you’ll be surprised how good it feels”.
…unless your new colorist doesn’t make a good match….
I tip toed, one finger in my mouth and the other twiddling my earlobe, tummy gurgling, into the hair salon and sat in the chair of a new colorist. Once a week I have been visiting her for two months and she does an amazing blow out and style. I enjoy her manners and our conversation. So, I made a wish, said a prayer and hoped for the best when I gave her the reigns to color my hair.
It is a good thing I like her.
I have very dark hair now. I don’t love it. I’m not sure what my next action will be, as I am inclined to run all the way back to Katy and beg Leila’s forgiveness for being unfaithful to her wizardry ways with my locks. Thank goodness she has the formula.
When Craig saw it he gulped. The boys said,” It’s dark”. I experience a jolt when I look in the mirror. Finally I admitted to Craig, “I don’t think I like it, I prefer it lighter. This makes me look older.” He said, “I agree, I like it lighter.” I didn’t even cry.
He withheld opinion until I made my own. That’s why he is the smartest husband on earth.
I’m going to go call Leila…
I’m spending the night at a retreat with girlfriends, maybe one of them will take my picture and you can decide for yourself, don’t worry, you can’t hurt my feelings. Leila has the formula and her number is on speed dial, I already know this is not me.