They’rrrre Grrrreat! (Or, What Do Tony Tiger and I Now Have in Common?)

Hair.  It’s what defines us. Okay, maybe it doesn’t define us, but it certainly can help to identify us!  (“Be advised–suspect has brown hair, green eyes, and a really, really big frowny face.”)  I am typically a brunette.  Sometimes the hair is dark, sometimes it’s slightly lighter.  Rarely is it blond.

Not too long ago (I swear, it was yesterday) I got a hair cut.  It was my first major style change in years.  This haircut was short, stacked (sort of) and totally awesome, if I don’t say so, myself.  Everything was peachy and perfect…until it grew out…two days later.

Apparently, stacked hair has an expiration of one week.

So, I needed to go back to the stylist.  What to do this time, though?  Seems like it would be such a waste to just get a trim.  Maybe I should spice it up a bit?  Something a little edgier?

I wanted this:

I got this:

Okay, it’s not that bad.  But it is…stripey.

How did it happen?  Well, I guess something was lost in the translation.

Me: I want a few highlights up front.  Right here [points to forehead].

Her: You want here? [Tugs on my bangs]

Me: Yes!  [Thinking, thank God she understands!]

Her: You want a partial?

Me: Yes! [yes yes yes!]

Her: Ok!

She pulls out the bleach and foils and…starts on the side of my head.  By the time I realized what she was doing, she had already applied the bleach to my head.

At this point, I guess I could’ve stopped her.  Nothing says “cool” like one lone streak on the side of your head, right?  But, I figured The Universe was talking to me.  It was saying, “Christina, you’d look really nice with a bunch of chunky highlights.  It doesn’t matter that half the moms you know have this exact ‘do.  Yeah!  All the cool kids are doing it!”

So, I took a deep breath and gave in.  My hair was in this woman’s hands.  Literally.

Does this make me a Tiger Mom??

The end result, not so bad!  I like it, actually.  It’s sunny and cheerful! Like me! (Right?)  While I don’t actually look like “me,” I’m not opposed to being someone else for a while! 😉  Who knows–maybe I am the stripey type?

A zebra can’t change its stripes, or so the saying goes.  Perhaps that doesn’t apply to moms…


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