I had a hot date with the Hair God today. When I walked in, he handed me a magazine and his very first words were, "THIS is what I'm thinking we should do to your hair."
THIS was a Harper's Bazaar photo spread of Renee Zellweger and her fierce new haircut:
Yes, I know you're laughing. I did. Look like Renee? Is Richard the Hair God on crack? I could NEVER EVER look that constipated, even if I really were.
I kid, I kid. She's a lovely woman, even if she does make that funny face for photos. You know, the one that makes her look like she seriously needs to go poo and she's really straining.
Me? I look like I ATE Renee. Plus, I'm not blonde, not even close, and never will be. Nor am I that cute, so cute that hunky British men want to rescue me and buy me expensive gifts.
But Richard has given this some serious thought and spent some time looking for photos to illustrate his vision, so we're going to grow my hair for a few months and see how it looks. I admit I love the way Renee's hair is layered up the back. Of course, this means Elegant and I would have mother/daughter hair styles, but I can live with that. It's not like I'm going to buy mother/daughter outfits from Lilly Pulitzer.
With any luck, by the spring I'll be down to just one chin again, so the hair style won't be so ludicrous on me.
Oh, and Richard did not notice that I messed with my hair color and I most certainly did not confess anything to him. In fact, I'm due to color it again, so I've been waiting until after today. I'll probably do it this weekend and am aiming for milk chocolate this time, not dark chocolate.
Let's see, new style, new color.... How else can I just totally fuck with my hair?