The 'Do' That Wasn't

I've been MIA for a bit. It seems to me, there's been so much sadness going on in the world, that a whiny post would have seemed a bit wrong. But it's time, dear readers, it's time. So here's my whine of the week:

Yesterday I spent the entire afternoon at the hairdresser. I've been refraining from applying the usual 'semi-permanent' colour for the last God-knows-however-many-weeks, because I had finally decided that it was time to treat myself to a permanent colour and highlights. This was a big step for me.

Not quite me...

The last time I had my hair professionally coloured was probably about 20 years ago - and that time I went blonde :-o  These days, I tend to stick to semi-permanent colours, as I like a bit of variety - darker colour (i.e. Black Cherry) in the winter months; lighter colour (i.e. Warm Chestnut) in the summer months. To be honest, they all look pretty much the same (my hairdresser calls it 'build-up'), and sadly, they no longer cover the increasing amount of grey hair I've developed over the years.

I refuse to go grey. I mean, I'm sure I'll capitulate eventually, but Not. Right. Now. D'ya get me Mother Nature? So it was with some trepidation that I entered the salon yesterday at 1pm and prepared myself for the hours of 'pampering'.

Hmmm, does something tell you I'm not a great fan of going to the hairdresser?

Three hours later I emerged: full head tint coupled with highlights, hair cut back into shape, conditioning treatment applied. I even spent the 'developing' time reading fanfic on my iPod (thank God Stanza has an option to increase the font size - I was unable to wear my glasses!). I was happy with the result - my hair felt manageable once again and I thought the lighter colour made me look a little fresher and - dare I say it - younger.

I arrived home to positive feedback from my sons, Thing1 and Thing2 (I clearly have them well-trained!). By the time my darling husband (she says with gritted teeth) arrived home, I was well and truly at ease with my new 'do' and looking forward to some positive husbandly feedback. By this time, however, I was also cooking dinner. This is what ensued:

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Hubs arrives home, plonks his bag in the hallway and enters the kitchen. I have my back to him, so he should be able to see - immediately - that my hair is shorter.

Hubs: [peering into the pan] Hmmm, what are you cooking?

Me: Well, I didn't have enough time to roast this, and Delia's cookbook says it's a pot-roast cut anyway - so I'm gonna pot-roast it [endeavours to disregard his lack of attention to the 'do']

Hubs: Hmm, okay [he walks away and doesn't comment on the 'do']

Hubs re-enters kitchen a little while later - and still doesn't comment on the 'do'.

Me: Ummm, have you not noticed anything?

Hubs: Huh?

Me:  My hair, perhaps?

Hubs: [gazes at my head for a moment] Well, it's a lot shorter... [he pauses] Um, and it's ginger.

He pauses again, then leads me out through the back door into the daylight.

Hubs: Why did she leave the grey in? [he plucks a grey hair from the top of my head]

I give up.

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Needless to say, despite his numerous apologies, I haven't let my DH off the hook...

But, you know what? I like my hair. I can see the difference. And that's what matters, right?

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