I had my hair colored over the weekend. If you know me at all, you know I'm not really fond of the 'natural' look when it comes to hair color. In fact, I'm not even sure what my natural hair color is. It's brown something. I figure, if I'm going to pay a buttload of money to have something done to my hair, people should be able to tell something was done to it.
My Joseph is a whiz with color - in the 5 years we've been together (it's funny that my longest relationship is with a gay man), he has never once given me a bad cut or bad color. When I went in on Saturday, I told him I was bored with my hair and wanted something jazzier and darker. End result: my hair is much darker, kind of a dark cherry brown and, in some lights, it might look a little purple, but it works really well with my skin.
Well, today at work, one of my co-workers asked me if I was going to go back and have Joseph fix my hair. OUCH! One of the top things you never want to hear someone say -- in fact, it falls in line with 'when are you due?' She's not a mean girl so I'm sure she didn't mean it to come out that way. But still, my paranoia kicked in until I remembered that I like having crazy colored hair. So I simply replied with, "Well, I don't think I need to have anything fixed, so probably not." Definitely not my most favorite way to kick off the week!