It's just hair right?

Hi everyone, It’s me, Suzanne
…what’s that you say? You didn’t recognize me because of my new and improved hair cut and color? The one that makes me look like Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Lopez all rolled into one hunka hunka burning love?

No? oh. I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood you.

The good news is I got my hair done, and I’m not sobbing into a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream with marshmallow topping. The hairdresser delivered a service as promised without going into an Edward Scizzorhands impression, and thus was spared the wrath of Suzanne on a bad hair day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping…
Gosh, it's good to be me.

What’s that? You want more information on how it went and a photograph to prove I actually showed up for my appointment? Well alright then, I mean, if you really want to know. Far be it from me to withhold details, especially the ones with such significant impact on world peace!

First…I showed up. HUGE!

Then, I had to make a few things clear to the stylist before we could proceed.
1. That I only got haircuts about once a year because I was totally traumatized as a child by a Dorothy Hamill do, that forced me to wake up 3 hours early every morning to blow dry and straighten my curly hair… In south freaking Florida’s humidity.

2. That I would probably hunt her down like a rabid dog, and personally pull her fingernails out of the nail beds if she got scissor happy on me ha ha not really. But, uh…really.

and 3. That this was only the tip of my neurosis iceberg, so if
she wouldn’t mind, I’d need her to sign this waiver releasing me
of all liability for damages incurred to the surrounding properties
should I be unhappy with the results.

With that out of the way, she was free to carry on at her own risk.
She did so by weaving a roll of aluminum foil squares into my hair, while mucking around with some goopy pungent smelly stuff. She then set out to make me look like this,
and i'm pretty sure she was laughing to herself too. By the time she was done, about 45 minutes later, I was picking up radio stations from the next county and feeling oh so very sexy.

I spent the following 30 minutes alternating being worried and fantasizing about what it would be like when I made my first red carpet entrance. It might be key to note here that I had been sniffing said smelly goopy stuff with my head stuck in a helmet style hairdryer.

She eventually washed it all out, mumbling how much I was going to love it, while nervously giggling about having two small children to care for.

Then she sat me down back in the chair and began the styling process. It went virtually without incident , and she was allowed to live to see another day.

Me: "That's... it"?
HD: "Yep". *crinching with bated breath*
Me: "Cool. What's the damage"?
HD: "$$$.$$"
Me: *reaching for a paper bag to stop the hyperventilating* "Do you take small children or must I pay in cash"?

I paid her an amount equal to her childs first private school payment then
off I went on my merry way, practicing my red carpet walk out the door.

That wasn't so bad I thought checking myself in the rear view mirror. I can do this whole change thing....piece-a-cake.

Now to make a long story shorter than a really looong story I'll just cut to the reviews.

First stop was to pick up little man from school where he immediately informed me he hated the new color and liked me better with black hair.
Me: "now don't be shy...tell me how you really feel".

Later that evening hubby comes home from work and gave me a politically safe answer.
Me: "Well, what do you think"?
him: *with raised eyebrow* "I'm not sure...I need some time to get used to it. I don't hate it".
well now THAT'S a relief.

Friends gave lukewarm opinions. "It's ok, but you look better with your dark hair".

ALRIGHT THEN.

Seems change is not always a good thing.

[side note] I'd post a picture, but the batteries just went dead on the camera.
Maybe that's a sign.