Moving on, many of you have heard me whine at length about my hair saga. Some of you haven't. I'll try to keep it short and get right to the pictures. :) The place in in Annapolis, and is called Touch. (Website has music - good, not bad.) The hair guru is Thom, who also writes poetry (!). They have two huge dogs. It's a neat place inside, with old fashioned barber chairs and stuff. All in all, it's a nice place to get your hair done. Just be... incredibly explicit. :) They kindly redid my hair at no cost. (Which is good, considering how heartbroken I was at the extraordinary cost and deeply unfulfilling nature of my first visit.) My mom got me this for Christmas, and for that I thank her. Love you mom!
Hi, my name is Pouty McWebcam. This is what my hair looked like when we started. The old dye job had grown out 4-6 inches and you could hardly see the blond highlights. My eyebrows indicate my own indignation at hair boredom.
Oh, le snif! They have done nothing right! It is ... mousey with ... greyish streaks! Yet, behold, the magic of the flatiron hair torture device. Thom was very gracious about the idea of a thirty year old woman taking up drumming, but took a cue for "purple highlights" from my jacket here. What time was it? Crying time.
Like OMG! They fixed it! And the flatiron hair mistreater has worked doubly well!
I can't say the cats liked it so much, though.
Phew. I am glad that's over, and I can look in the mirror. Happily even.