Bad hair days are here again

Lately every day has been a bad hair day for me, which means I need to visit this place (I have an appointment tomorrow). This is one of those uppity salons where the decor is out of a magazine, it has a fake waterfall, mood lighting and the bathrooms alone are a work of art. They serve delicious Market Spice Tea that I love. It's also where I pay an exorbitant amount of money to have my hair look like I have nothing done to it. My colorist adds "natural" blonde highlights, courtesy of bleach and tinfoil, and my stylist trims off the bare minimum so my husband won't notice I had it cut.

My husband has a thing for long, blonde hair, especially on me. This sounds archaic and caveman-like, of which he is neither. Once I had a couple inches whacked off and his comment when I walked in the door, "why do you always do that, your hair just starts getting long and you cut if all off". Or the time I had it dyed a gorgeous auburn red and had about three inches cut off. His comment that time, "what happened to your hair!?" I was back to being a blonde two days later.

When I tell my girlfriends these stories they're mortified. Most of them have short, stylish cuts and whatever hell color they want. So why do I bow down on this one thing to my husband? Because it's not a big sacrifice on my part and it makes him happy. So why not be accommodating? I'm not very accommodating in most areas, at least I can do this one thing. Although I always tell myself when I'm a widow, I'm getting it all cut off and dyed red!