Today I got my hair done. We had to start putting more blonde into the mix, as my hair is getting grayer and grayer, even though I'm not even freaking forty yet. Sigh. I inherited the early salt gene, but it looks much better on my Dad than it ever could on me.
Anyhoo, I went to the salon while Mr. P was at school, and went directly from there to pick him up.
I was chatting with another mom when the door to the classroom opened. "Oh, your hair looks so good!" said the teacher. "Oh yes, it looks fantastic!" chimed the other mom, "I was going to say something, I love it!"
Well, ok then. I'm glad everyone is liking my hair. I am feeling pretty darn good about myself at this point in time.
Then on the way out to the car, I saw another mom and she said, "Oh look, somebody got their hair done! I love the color!"
All right, hold on a minute. My good feelings are now significantly deflated.
Either I need a modeling contract this very minute, or the gushing over my hair is just evidence that my hair normally looks like crap.
I'm guessing it's the latter.