This past weekend I entered my regular salon for a routine higlight/lowlight visit. Because it was routine, I took the available stylist rather than waiting for a future date with my usual girl. When meeting this new stylist, I mentioned that I wanted a little more depth in the color. After two hours in her chair (why it took this long I have no idea, my hair is very short), she rinsed out my hair and removed the towel and to my surprise I realized my hair was now...cinnamon brown.
What. The. Hell.
Being the polite type, I kept my mouth shut. She did a horrible job of drying and styling - it looked like Sally Field from Steel Magnolias - you know the movie where her daughter references her hair as a brown football helmet?
When I finally told her I thought it was really dark she offered to spend another hour (which I did not have) adding more highlights. Instead I paid my $100 (ugh) and headed out for last minute Christmas shopping.
Let me just make a note here. Heading into the hell that is shopping the weekend before Christmas should NEVER follow a bad hair appointment. It was a disaster. No parking, icy parking lots, too many crazy people, long long long long cashier lines, etc. And every time I passed a mirror, my cinnamon hair gave me a jolt. Finally escaping the madness 5 hours later (2.5 of which were in line or looking for parking spaces), I stopped to pick up a sandwich and soda knowing Hubby was due to be out for his lodge dinner. I was looking forward to a few hours of total isolation.
But when I pulled into the driveway Hubby's car was there. My blood began to boil. I was totally out of patience and not fit for human consumption. I bundled up my packages and made my way into the house. Poor Hubby then became the target of all of my pent up frustration for the day. After stomping up to the bedroom with my takeout bag, I closed myself in for the evening.
Meanwhile back on Mars, Hubby was left scratching his head and reeling from the storm that just blew through the house. He retreated to the living room in horror.
A few days later, the storm was long gone, but I was talking on the phone to my Mom, preparing her for her first sighting of me as a brunette and Hubby overheard. He shouted up the stairway, "It's only a shade darker....Jeez."
We truly are from different planets.