I worry about it looking butch, but everyone tells me that this is not something I need to fret about, so I tend to put it out of my mind.
This time, the Deva took one look at my hair and said, “It’s dry… and green! What did you do to it?!”
“Ummm…. I took swimming lessons?” I said, looking at him pleadingly.
He snorted, “I can see that! Well, we’ll just have to fix this up, now, won’t we?” He said with his usual flair, pulling out his scissors.
I didn't see the green myself, but I am no expert in such matters...As he was cutting away he said, “With hair this short you need a kick ass colour.”
“Well, go mix one up then,” I said, adding, “You know I trust you.”
And I do trust him. We’ve been together seven years… including the two years he took off to go work on a cruise ship and we stayed in touch via e-mail. He sent long stories about life on the ship and I replied with messages such as, “Glad you’re enjoying the high seas, now get that beautiful black ass of yours back to Calgary so you can do my hair, dammit!”
And back he came… opened up his own salon, and has moved up to doing the hair and make-up for various local TV personalities. All the while, he has never forgotten his loyal clients from his early days. He's truly "good people", that Deva.
So basically, I let him do whatever… and usually I am pleased.
This time though… it’ll take some getting used to…
The result? Short, spikey… and a dark, reddish brown, with a few chunky blonde highlights. Dramatic… Which is not really my style… But, what’s a non-drama queen to do? Slap on some eyeliner and deal with it, I guess. Or at least, that’s what I did this morning.
I might get used to it yet… If not, it’ll grow out and I’ll change it next time. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to feel "kick ass"... So far though, no dice.