New do
I've hit that point with my hair again where I'm ready for a change. Anything, really, other than what I have. Which is a shame, since it's at the point where I receive regular compliments on the color. So, I'm not changing the color. The style, however (and I use "style" loosely), has got to go.
It feels all ratty and gross, and just hangs there limply, doing little more than covering my ears. It's not a style, really, so much as just this thin mass of hair that sprouts from my head.
It's been a shade over two months since I had anything done to it cut or color-wise, which is abyssmal considering I work in a place that offers hair services seven days a week. It helps that I have the curly 'do thing going, which means I have a lot more leeway when it comes to having to maintain any sort of style. And curls hide re-growth like it's nobody's business, which is one of the many reasons I don't permanently straighten it. My sloth would then be apparent to everyone if I did.
In an effort to avoid what I went through two months ago when I googled around looking for a style, I decided to choose from what was in front of me.
Namely, a very cute style on one of the actresses on the West Wing. Yes, my friends, I've dug out the old DVDs again to keep me company while M is on his travels (he left today for Rhode Island). There is an actress who has a relatively bit part on the show, appearing here and there with no real regularity. Luckily she's been in the episodes I've been watching lately, so I was able to go, "Hey, I like her hair!"
I googled her and got nothing but shots of her with straight styles. Grrr. So then I googled for still shots from the set of West Wing and got nothing with her at all. Grrrrrr. I googled this woman there and back, and got nothing, nothing I could bring in to Gary, my stylist. GRRRRRR.
So, I got creative. I figured out which episodes she was in (I've blown past them in the week since I "discovered" the style, and hell if I know which ones she's appeared in) and queued up the DVD. Then I sat there with a remote and fast-forwarded until I found the scenes where she appeared. Strategic pausing of the DVD allowed me to then snap shots of my television screen with my BlackBerry's camera, which I then downloaded into my computer and printed. Technology is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
The shots are all grainy and look a bit warped, but it got the point across. Except when Gary said, "She looks like a drag queen!" "I don't want to look like a drag queen." "Not her hair, silly. Her face." "It's because I took a picture of my television screen. She doesn't really look like that." "Whatever."
These are the types of conversations we have here at the spa, and which don't exactly instill confidence in me with the man who is going to be cutting my hair. And yet, every time, he does an amazing job.
Oh. My. Gosh. I've just read this entire post again to check for spelling and grammatical errors and have realized what a colossally boring post it is. It's all about my stupid hair. That's pretty inane and not very interesting at all to anyone but, well, me. And maybe M, who has to look at my hair more than anyone but who is usually the last to know when I've done something to it.
Just an FYI, though, before I go. I've just learned my color is called Fiery Citron. How cool is that?!
It feels all ratty and gross, and just hangs there limply, doing little more than covering my ears. It's not a style, really, so much as just this thin mass of hair that sprouts from my head.
It's been a shade over two months since I had anything done to it cut or color-wise, which is abyssmal considering I work in a place that offers hair services seven days a week. It helps that I have the curly 'do thing going, which means I have a lot more leeway when it comes to having to maintain any sort of style. And curls hide re-growth like it's nobody's business, which is one of the many reasons I don't permanently straighten it. My sloth would then be apparent to everyone if I did.
In an effort to avoid what I went through two months ago when I googled around looking for a style, I decided to choose from what was in front of me.
Namely, a very cute style on one of the actresses on the West Wing. Yes, my friends, I've dug out the old DVDs again to keep me company while M is on his travels (he left today for Rhode Island). There is an actress who has a relatively bit part on the show, appearing here and there with no real regularity. Luckily she's been in the episodes I've been watching lately, so I was able to go, "Hey, I like her hair!"
I googled her and got nothing but shots of her with straight styles. Grrr. So then I googled for still shots from the set of West Wing and got nothing with her at all. Grrrrrr. I googled this woman there and back, and got nothing, nothing I could bring in to Gary, my stylist. GRRRRRR.
So, I got creative. I figured out which episodes she was in (I've blown past them in the week since I "discovered" the style, and hell if I know which ones she's appeared in) and queued up the DVD. Then I sat there with a remote and fast-forwarded until I found the scenes where she appeared. Strategic pausing of the DVD allowed me to then snap shots of my television screen with my BlackBerry's camera, which I then downloaded into my computer and printed. Technology is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
The shots are all grainy and look a bit warped, but it got the point across. Except when Gary said, "She looks like a drag queen!" "I don't want to look like a drag queen." "Not her hair, silly. Her face." "It's because I took a picture of my television screen. She doesn't really look like that." "Whatever."
These are the types of conversations we have here at the spa, and which don't exactly instill confidence in me with the man who is going to be cutting my hair. And yet, every time, he does an amazing job.
Oh. My. Gosh. I've just read this entire post again to check for spelling and grammatical errors and have realized what a colossally boring post it is. It's all about my stupid hair. That's pretty inane and not very interesting at all to anyone but, well, me. And maybe M, who has to look at my hair more than anyone but who is usually the last to know when I've done something to it.
Just an FYI, though, before I go. I've just learned my color is called Fiery Citron. How cool is that?!
posted by Amy at 2:47 PM
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