I've been trying for a couple of months to be more blonde and close to my natural color. Last night, I took the final plunge. (I'm just lucky my hair hasn't fallen out yet. . .) It was the first time in a year and a half I had someone else touch my hair. It's such a blessing to have your best friend be a hairdresser because they know you; they know what you want and they're not afraid to tell you their thoughts and opinions. But with Adam gone to California, I needed a new hairdresser. I had been dreading it, too. The last time I got my hair done was in September, and it was in dire need of some love. I've decided going to a new hairdresser is like going on a first date:
you don't know how they're going to be (snotty or nice),
how they're going to act,
if they're not afraid to give you their personal input,
if they know how to do a proper blonde,
or
if they're going to be good enough for you.
Lucky for me, Kenzie at Fringe Salon here in Cedar City is fantastic. (She's also our neighbor - we share a back wall.) She was easy to talk to, knew exactly what she was doing, and got me in and out of the salon in a decent amount of time.
Good news about the hair: Trevor LOVES it.
(He asked me last night, "Is it weird that I love it because. . . well, first, you look hot, but also my mom always had blonde hair and I love her hair?" Awe, he's just so damn adorable.)
And once the brighter blonde fades, I'm at my natural-ashy-dirty dishwater blonde.
(Although I kind of like the bright blonde.)
Thanks, Kenzie! I'll definitely be back. (:
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