i went to the salon last night, intending to get my roots touched up (they were so long i wanted to yak every time they'd stare me down in the mirror).
then i asked my very trusted stylist of 8+ years, if she could do whatever she wanted with it, what would she do?
blonde ombre.
a blonde what? ombre who? so we googled it (thankful for technology at our finger tips!), and pulled up these images:
cute cute cute! it's two toned, dark on top and fading into a lighter color. and since i had a good 2-3 inches of roots it sorta made me a perfect candidate.
i had a mini flashback the the previous weekend, when my hubs suggested i just grow it out. and in a very prissy/whiny way i declared i would NOT have nasty growout hair with 4+ inch (dark)roots and platinum tips. no way no how.
i seriously had a good laugh at myself for the hindsight.
i let my stylist work her magic with the preface: "i trust you, but i can't promise i'm going to love it." in case my initial reaction (if not ecstatic) would hurt her feeling, cause she is super awesome and talented and i didn't want that scenario to happen.
but it sorta did (minus the hurt feelings). i glimpse my wet hair, it's sooo dark! i'm impatiently waiting my blow dry, hoping it will lighten up more than i know it actually will.
then the blow dry.
i hate it. initially. totally and absolutely.
but she knows me so well... i hate my hair the first few days no matter what is done to it (even the hubs made this point to me via phone, he knows me so well too!).
if i like it, i keep it, if i don't, she'll lighten it up next week.
i go home. i avoid the mirrors. i wake up hoping it'll be cuter? but it's just a dark tangled mess from restless sleep.
shower! blow dry! hair product! ratting (a must)! curls!
oh? what's this? my hair is looking... sexy!
and just like that i'm in love.
hubs: DANG! You look hot momma!
tanya (stylist): Holy crap u look hot!!!!! loves it!!!!
my hair got a make over. finally.
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