Zebra Hair�

2003-03-13

I have mentioned here that I prefer to cut my own hair. It�s not that I think that I do such a great job, but I never have any trouble getting an appointment. I also prefer to color my hair. Mostly because when I do it, I don�t have anything else going on. No other customers to attend to, no jokes to listen to, no coffee to drink unless I want it.

My mother gave me a trip to the salon for Christmas. And two months ago I made the appointment. It took that long to get an appointment that was at an hour I could actually be there. And on Tuesday night I went. The cut itself is not so bad, but now I look like a zebra. My normal color is field mouse brown. Nondescript at best. Now I look, as our D&D friend said, �Fancy.� My bangs, in particular, are a sore point. Platinum. I have never wanted platinum hair. I have been painting my hair every morning just because I can�t stand to see it in the mirror. Yes. Literally painting it. Some paint that my husband bought for his miniatures. I thin it out a bit and paint it on after my hair�s mostly dry. I swear I am going to cut and color my hair myself from this day for until I can no longer manage. Then I will just let it grow the way it grows and to heck with the rest of the world. I swear I love my mom for reasons too numerous to mention. Why the heck does she care so much about my hair? Ah (biting tongue). Could be worse. I know she cares most about the important stuff. And still has energy left to care about my hair. Really shouldn�t complain, should I?

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