I am one sexy momma.
Heh. Look at me, sounding all cocky of myself. Have you seen my hair lately?? I was growing out a perm, my color from December was four inches grown out, and the ends were all nasty and frizzy. Plus since it was so far grown out, there was nothing I could do with it. I can’t do my hair under the best of circumstances; it gets awful when I’m working with a mop like what my hair had been.
Today Kurt had most of the day off after working an insane schedule the rest of the week. He asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of our day, and I finally decided I needed to visit a salon. Of course, my first choice would be Miss Shear’s place of business, but since she lives all the way down in Mississippi, that wasn’t about to happen. Instead I had a recommendation from a friend for a local salon, so that’s where I went.
I had found a style online that I really liked, a basic bob, but longer in the front than in the back. I knew my hair wasn’t long enough to replicate exactly what was shown in the photo. I showed it to the stylist, and she said, “We can do something.”
She washed my hair, my favorite part of getting my hair cut, and then her scissors started flying across my hair. It didn’t take long for the basic shape of my new cut to emerge! By the time she was done, I was amazed. No, it wasn’t exactly like what was in the photo, but it was as close as anyone could come working with the weird cut I had before this!
Then… then we started talking about color. My color was so drab and blah… and it was horribly grown out. (Yes, yes, I know you’re not supposed to get your hair colored when you’re pregnant. But you know, my real mom smoked and probably drank when she was pregnant with me, and look how normal I turned out.) I had planned on going really very dark, with maybe some reddish highlights. But the more my stylist looked at me, the more she thought I’d look better as a redhead.
Heh. I wonder if stylists can read minds.
I had been a redhead for many, many years. All though college and most of my early married life, I was a redhead. I did auburn, I did candy apple red, I did darker brown-red, I did it all. I love being a redhead, and I missed it. The only reason I wasn’t still a redhead was I stopped coloring it when I got pregnant with Grace, and I have stayed my natural mousy brown for the last four years, with the exception of a red rinse last June, and auburn permanent color in December.
I picked out a darker red, tending towards the violet, because I was eager to see what I looked like with dark hair. Kurt finds pale women with dark hair to be very attractive, and I’ve always wanted to know what I would look like with pale skin and dark hair. (Don’t worry — Kurt loves me regardless of the color of my hair.) However, the stylist thought maybe I should go a bit lighter and a bit brighter. She initially picked out 6RV, which is bright red with violet tones, but then she consulted with another stylist in the salon who peered closely at the color of my eyes, and it was decided that a half-and-half mix of 6RV and 6RO (red with some orange) was the way to go.
After rinsing the color out and blow-drying my hair, this is the end result:
I. Love. It. I seriously am in love with my own hair. It’s been so long since I’ve had a cut where I feel pretty and gorgeous, and being a redhead is really what I need to be. I think this is wonderful pick-me-up to cure the blahs I’ve been having lately. It’s easier to look on the bright side of things when you feel lovely.
As if that weren’t wonderful enough, we actually found a Whole Foods grocery store up in Cranston, as well as a restaurant serving Mediterranean food. The sign read “American – Turkish – Greek – Italian – French – Middle Eastern.” My heart went weak when I saw the “Middle Eastern” label. I dated a man from Iran for almost a year in college, and one of the perks of that relationship was getting to eat some amazing food, not only prepared by his family, but also found at little mom & pop restaurants he knew around the DC area. I haven’t had decent Iranian food since I started dating Kurt, over eight years ago. it’s a very sad thing.
A look at the menu informed me the “Middle Eastern” pretty much referred to “Turkish,” but there’s quite a bit of overlap. I chose the “Turkish Dinner,” consisting of a kebab of spiced ground beef that was grilled, a really delicious green salad with tomatoes and cucumbers, and saffron rice. There was also a fresh sprig of rosemary laid across my food, as well as a grilled pepper. I also had a side of sauce very similar to the Greek tzatziki, but this was called cacik. Everything was amazingly tasty, and I enjoyed it all. I had taken a bite of the grilled pepper and discovered it tasted much like a grilled bell pepper. It was so good that later I took a larger bite of it, while giving Kurt a bite of it as well.
That bite had the seeds of the pepper in it. And holy cow, was it HOT!! My mouth was literally on fire, I began sweating immediately, and my tongue felt like it was blistering. I felt like I couldn’t spit it out because we had cloth napkins, and I didn’t want the waiter dealing with something I had half chewed up. Somehow I managed to swallow it all down, but I couldn’t get rid of the burning in my mouth.
Now don’t get me wrong — I enjoy a little spice to my food. But this wasn’t simply spice; this was unadulterated heat. I almost began crying, it hurt so badly. Finally mass quantities of Kurt’s orange soda managed to tame the heat, and by the time we’d finished our food, the heat had subsided to a manageable pain.
I’ve learned my lesson now. Never ever take a large bite of a pepper until you are sure it’s a mild one!!!
PS — Happy birthday to my daddy, connoisseur of all things spicy and hot!!!