I realize that my post incited either wild delight
(Let’s be honest, we all love finding out that someone else did something like, oh, I don’t know, started plucking their eyebrows and then in an attempt to even it out kept going back and forth until she ended up with Jon Waters mustache eyebrows)
or profound pity
(Again, the only thing better than slyly laughing at someone’s beauty mishap is stepping up and collecting them in an embrace, murmuring that it will be ok.)
My particular situation is uniquely volatile for my 37th week of pregnancy state and my general desire to look at once polished and natural…increasingly hard as my face becomes more familiar with its 4th decade (Help me out, I’m bad at math, but being in my 30’s means my fourth decade, no?). Anyway, the reflection I see in the mirror is exceptionally brassy, each strand of hair looking exhausted and frazzled, and the overall vibe I get is: Desperate.
With each comment left pleading for a picture I sank deeper and deeper, not wanting to capture the hair and also not wanting to disappoint with its decidedly non-white appearance. I think if there are salon experience types I am definitely of the never-changes-a-thing-and-feels-like-she-really-branched-out-variety or the oh-my-god-what-have-I-done-despite-no-one-around-me-seeing-anything-different-at-all, I say all this to prepare you for less than you might be expecting, though I still swear it is way, way, way too all over my head brassy blonde.
Normally I look kind of like this, no styling, virtually no color, layers that prove at some point I had my hair cut and pony tail bumpage visible in back exposing what an afterthought my hair usually is.
Let us revisit the last experience I had with this stylist:
Cute, right? Aside from the odd angle of my head and face? The only issue being that flat ironing my hair on a daily basis is slightly unrealistic, but whatever.
This next one? This is how I usually look, not to say that I walk around with sheperd’s hook all the time, more that I really dig wearing baseball caps.
And this one demonstrates the level of highlight I can tolerate (I thought this was daring), though you’ll note the white streak by my ear which made me slightly crazy.
And now, here are a series of shots of what I have now:
Again, the hysteria could be because of the hormone storm being kicked up by the lil lass in that there gut…keeping my tongue in my mouth might help my appearance as well.