June 6, 2007 by Marj Hatzell
I know you are all jonesing to see my new ‘do. I will post pics of it, I promise. I just don’t want them to end up on some pr0n Website in Iceland or something, so perhaps I will digitally alter them first. Or not. We shall see.
The hair cut went very well. As usual, I am one satisfied customer. This is why I have been going to the same beautician for ten years, I know what I am going to get and I know I will love it. Let’s put it this way: If I were single or gay or a guy and my hairdresser was one of those, too, than I’d marry her. That way I would be able to get my hair done whenever I wanted. Or if I was rich I would hire her as my personal hair person and take her everywhere with me.
Darling had the same reaction as usual. “Oh. It looks nice.” I do not know what he was expecting. It’s not like I am going to suddenly turn into some blonde co-ed with eight-inch extensions. He pretty much has the same reaction to anything:
“You tapped the bumper on my car? Oh. OK.”
“Bugaboo AND Bug Boy are having seizures? Oh. OK.”
“The power is out and we have to throw out all the food? Oh. OK. Let’s order out.”
“The dog’s vet bill was $300? Oh. OK.”
“You lopped six inches off your hair? Oh. OK. What’s for dinner?”
Yeah. He’s a very emotional guy. (That was just dripping with sarcasm, huh?) Although my guess is that he isn’t as into hair as he is into other, AHEM, parts of my body. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
I was going to go into the hairdresser and just have her trim it up. When she started moving around my head at precision speed, scissors and comb flying, I suddenly blurted out, “Make it shorter for summer!” I meant it, too. I just don’t want to deal with ponytails and hair on my neck and humidity and my hair never drying because it is so thick and wavy. When it is humid my very wavy hair (which I straighten faithfully each day) gets the “Bad Home Perm” look. As in, frizzy on one side, straight on the other, with curl under neath and Roseanne Rosannadanna poof. Not pretty. So it is shorter. Same basic haircut that I had before, just…different. Does that make sense? Sheesh. Here are the pics anyway. Try not to laugh, as my six-year-old is the photographer and he doesn’t wait for you to present you best side, if you know what I mean:
That’s me trying to drink tea.
That’s me scowling because I haven’t finished said tea.
That’s me turning my back on my child so I can finish that cup of tea
before I have to nuke it for the third time.
Don’t mess with DG before she’s finished her tea, mmmkay? If you look closely to the pictures you can see our eighties-inspired faux-beams, installed by the previous owners. You can also see the IKEA corner computer cabinet that Bugaboo has broken (it is about four months old). If you look VERY closely you can see children’s artwork hanging off the knee wall and can see how dirty said knee wall is, along with the kitchen table behind me and perhaps you could even make out the cobwebs hanging above my head as I sit at the corner computer cabinet. In fact, I bet you don’t know that I am in my pajamas in these shots with no undergarments and haven’t showered or shaved or washed my face, now did you? Huh? Oops. I guess you do now.