June Cleaver Nirvana

Two monumental things happened today. My steri-strips fell off and revealed that I am not horribly disfigured (listen people, you asked for this picture...). I also got my hair colored (which is why pulling back my hair is not revealing the dreaded...GRAY). I have been a blonde all my life, but recently it has become obvious that I am no longer blonde. In an attempt to keep my color trips to twice a year because I am cheap get in touch with the real me, I have been asking for a hair color that matches my roots, but my hairdresser (do we still use that term?) has said no. She told me that she never changes a person's hair color until they have been there 3 times. Who makes these rules? Why do I play along? So, I was a little irritated when last visit, my third visit, I was again turned down. So today, channeling the alter-ego persona of Power Mom, I was not going to take no for an answer. After a long discussion and comments like "I don't recommend it", "are you scared" and "it wasn't MY idea" (by the way, those are never fun things to hear when you can't see what is going on up there even when you are super confident super hero in disguise) she did it and....I am not horribly disfigured! I actually like it and am trying out my new brunette spunk.

PS--the ring is courtesy of blog-Stedman in honor of what he refers to as the longest years of his life our 16th anniversary--yeah!