If any of you hear a disembodied shout coming from the direction of my house tomorrow morning?
It'll be Bear.
I had my hair done today. And I love it, but he......well, maybe not so much.
Cass bounced into the house after school today amidst a flurry of 'Guess what I did today? And I played with......' and fell silent when he saw my hair.
'Mommy? What did you do?'
I grinned at him. So is it funky, or craaaaazy?
'It's neat.' He inspected.
So do you think your Dad is going to think it's neat?
He broke into a laugh. 'Daddy's going to say 'YOU ARE SO CRAAAAZY!'
And I'm sure it's going to work out that way. After all, Bear would assume that he's coming home to the same shoulder-length, dark brown haired me he left this morning.
Not the one with the blond and red streaks in her hair. Not the one with the short, mussed (funky) haircut. Not the one who has red streaks that match her eyeglasses.
(Which are dark red.)
I've already had one conversation with a person who spoke exclusively at the top of my head. I wonder how the church ladies will react? It should be fun on Sunday.
Meanwhile, I love it. It IS funky. It's headturning and the color is eye-catching and the cut is awesome. I feel pretty and young and not-boring and energetic.
And B will love it too. It may just take him a little longer to do so.
UPDATE: Rosey came barreling out of pre-school, slid to a stop and gasped
"Mommy! You look like my crayons!!'
I'll try to get a picture tonight. Promise.