So I leave the house to go to the Beauty Salon. Yes, not something I do very often, but my hair hadn't been cut since late August.
The brassy highlights that had been put in were still there, dull...with a nice dark streak down the middle of my head.
This had been okay as I'd been wearing a stocking cap in this cold weather at work. What a great cover up.
Then I decided to get something done about it.
Two hours in a chair getting 'low' lights and 'high' lights and looking like some 1950's bizarre Twilight Zone monster with foil pieces sticking out of my hair...I get it washed and trimmed.
Just a little trim as I'm considering letting it grow out some more.
I look in the mirror and am pleased. No big dark splotch running down the middle of my head. The high and low lights give my hair a more natural and subtle look. The beautician was correct, she said she'd do a very good job.
I walk in the door at home.
He looks at me.
*So what did you have done?*
Me~looking at him as if he were from another planet: *You can't TELL?
Him: *Well. Not really,...oh you got some cut off the back!* He is pleased with being able to notice that.
Me~glaring a bit. *You can't see that the big black streak is gone?*
Him: *Oh, what black streak was that?*
Me~thinking murderous thoughts. Sigh. Another woman would have noticed right away.
Maybe I should have gone pure white blond, or jet black, or...red.
I'll bet if I moved something in his junk pile he'd notice right away.