Today I spent a greater portion at the hairdresser. It was not relaxing, as my 4 year old daughter thought it would be cute to act farel. Ughhh. I loathe when she decides to do that.
When I walked in my hairdresser said "what are we gonna do?" and I said, make my hair look like the roots, minus the 6 gray hairs I keep pulling out.
With moving, packing, trying to sell the house myself, plus everything else I have on my plate I do not want to worry about roots. I do not want it. I do not want to look like some crazy person. So I am even darker than the last time, sans highlights, a sort of golden thread running through here or there, but nothing wacky.
So now I feel like Elvira. Yes it is truly that dark.
Ok, it is not quite that dark, but it might as well be. Especially since I was practically a strawberry blonde in April.
When some folks have a mid-life crises they get convertibles. Me? I alter my hair color. It is a lot cheaper, and there is no insurance. Plus what in the hell would I do with a convertible in Nebraska?
Well I would freeze.
So now I look like Elvira. Great.