Five Photographs in Five Days: Day Four

Last May my hair therapist
Ashlee looked me deep in the eyes for a serious talk at the salon.

"We need to talk." She said.

"Right now you are blond and your hair is getting longer by the month. If we keep bleaching and you keep growing it long, your hair will become unhealthy."

"Oh." I said as I stared back at my blond self in the mirror. This was serious.

"You have two choices," Ashlee compassionately explained, "either we go long and brown, or we take you short and blond."

There was hair blowing silence.

"I need to consult my husband." I mumbled, heavy against the weight of the decision at hair.

Now, if you are a woman who independently chooses her hairstyle based on no man's desiring then I salute you. I hope your spontaneous ability to cut and carry on makes for the best of hair adventures. I used to be you. I used to be. But now--golly darn it--I care about what my husband thinks of my hair. I've gone soft. I am 2% trophy wife.

Back at home Chup was hearing about the critical condition of my hair for the first time. After I verbally emoted paragraphs of pros and cons of each choice I offered the decision to his great male yearning. But his decision was easily made, not even one second of hesitation.

"Long and brown." He spouted rapidly while getting up to stretch.

I returned to Ashlee shortly thereafter.

"We are going long and brown." I quietly ordered.

"Long and brown it is." She responded.

And after a thick layering of caramel- colored goop and a long sit under the hair dryer, Ashlee transformed my blond locks back to the God-intended brunette of my teenage years (before I was introduced to the tantalization of Sun-In). Two hours later it was done.

When Chup came home from work that afternoon, I shyly waved my hand in his direction.

"Hi." I said looking down.

"I like it." He said looking up.

In the past six months of my brunette journey I've seen a personal trade off. Having long hair is as gratifying as having blond hair. I welcome any opportunity to flip it in all directions as a way to punctuate emotions. Sassy, silly, sexy--a flip of the hair can say so much. So much.

And yet,


(between you and me)

I miss my blond.

Just a little.

Like today when I came across this photo while looking for a family picture for our Christmas card.

Hello Sunshine!

I know this post wasn't about saving the world or anything, but don't you find any write-up about my hair intriguing? Mmmmy hhhhhair. So for me, two thumbs up!

p.s. I will spare you the temptation to comment on which hair color you like better (I can feel your itch), instead do you mind meeting me at my forum where I am hosting a discussion on the false sense of celebrity blogging can create. My brunette hair and I would love to hear your take on it, so click here and look for my discussion called "Blogging: False Sense of Celebrity?"

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