I’ve had a few people ask what I think of my hair. In the typical I don’t like to compliment myself fashion I normally say it is a little Marg Helgenberger meets Ronald McDonald. The red is a little red and I can see the grow out making it look a little too Flying Nun. But in reality, I like it. I catch myself looking in mirror instead of running away and screaming. It took me a few days to figure out exactly how much I can let it air dry before it turns too Carrot Top. That whole natural curl thing is even worse when it’s short. I also am in need of a smaller round brush. My medium sized one was gross and I threw it out when I had project “get all this crap out of my house.” I am also running low on the texturizer I like so much thus requiring a trip to the dreaded mall. All in all it isn’t bad. A little cold, but not bad. I think it will take some getting used to.
This morning all my highschoolers made very nice comments and I thanked them all instead of treating it like they were making fun of me. I was exceptionally gracious. My kids try to compliment me all the time and I take it for smart assedness. They have a tendency to make me think that.
Now as to what the boy thinks… When I walked in the door of the in-laws (who were watching the boy) my MIL said, “Little Boy, Mama’s back.” The boy took one look at me and in a jubilant fashion proclaimed, “All done, haircut!” I think what he meant to say, but can’t string that many words together was, “What the hell happened to your head lady?” Since then people have taught him to say, “pretty.” So we ask him what he thinks of mama’s hair and he says, “pretty.” Much better.