Hair Trigger

A week ago today I got my hair trimmed and colored. Trimmed is key, as she only de-bulked and did not remove length. The color is now redder, warmer and spicier, and my highlights are re-lit. (You can't really tell much other than general color in this picture, but Bebe sure is cute!)

So when I came home I was feeling pretty good. Except for the fact that I knew Bill would not like it. He never likes it after I get it cut, especially not since I started going to my current hairdresser. What Bill likes is long natural hair. The way it was around the time we got married. The kind that's always just getting shoved into a ponytail and has no real style. The kind I get bored with.

And I was right. He hates it. Vocally. Too vocally, for my taste. I had to call him out for what he was doing which was making me feel like shit in hopes of my doing what he wanted. Which was impossible since my hair doesn't pop out of my head when you pump my damn arm like one of those weird dolls frm the 70s. But onc he apologized for that we were still left with this: I like my hair and he hates it.

So feminist me says too fucking bad. It's on my head. End of story.

And understanding me feels awful that he has too look at thing he hates. And he has tried and tried to tell me he doesn't like it and feel like I am ignoring him on purpose and disregarding his feelings.

Ai yi yi yi.

We went back and forth and finally he told me that if I hate something about his appearance he would consider that. So i suggested we find a new stylist and he come with me and we will both talk about what we like and compromise. Ain't love grand? And who said love meant never having to bring you sweetheart with you to one of the few times that is all yours.