Lifted

My hair professional and I have a deal. She doesn't tell me how to teach art and I don't tell her how to do my hair. With that being said, today when I came in I did not get the usual questions. "Are we doin' the same thing?" has been the standard question for a year and a half.

Today, I was told what we are doing. And now, I am much more blonde. Not blonde. But more blonde. Evidently there is a plan to take me into summer. I have already been shown the summer colors . . . which Jennifer can not wait to try (and they are really Elmo colored . . . and one like Grover's nose). Currently, I think I may look like a calico cat. Which, in a way, is sweet.

Let's hope my bosses think so too.

So while we were putting "the plan" in action, there was a lot of burning . . . as it takes something strong (peroxide? Do they still use that?) to turn my black hair into the blondeness. And it's back to sticking up . . . though I was assured that I could wear it down and it would be alright. It's hard to have sticky-uppy hair in the winter . . . can't wear a hat or it gets all squashed. And Jennifer got to talking, so it's too short, again. Which means it will look just right around Dec. 14, fifteen days before I get it cut again. I wonder if the plan calls for more blonde in December? Maybe I should have had her write the plan down or something.

(Then I could show it to the powers that be at work . . . see sir? There is a plan. Educators, they all love a good plan.)

Pictures later.