There finally came a day when I decided to cut my long straight hair. It was very long, very straight, very thin, and very fine. If I didn't wash it every day, it looked oily and just hung there. All three boys were finally in school (K, 3rd, and 7th) and I was going to start working part time, so decided I wanted a more professional look.
I went to the local discount hair salon and went from very long to shoulder length, with a layered look. The boys all seemed to like it. Before John got home from work, I asked that they please not ask for his opinion. As I explained it to them, if we ask if he likes it, he'll just say, "It's fine," and we'll never really know how he feels. I wanted to get his honest reaction, and with John that can take some time.
We sat down to dinner without him commenting on my radical hair change. By the time the meal was over, the boys were all laughing, and I was concerned. Either he didn't like it, and was being polite, or he hadn't even bothered to look at me during the entire meal. Neither option made me feel great.
The next day I went back to the same beauty shop and had it cut even shorter and had a really curly perm added to the mix. I again forbid the boys to mention the hair. This time he's sure to say something. The meal was pretty much a repeat of the night before, with two exceptions. I was quieter, and the boys' laughter was louder. John ate in undisturbed silence.
The following day found me again seated at the beauty parlor. I had my hair dyed red. If you're not believing this, or think it's a joke, ask any of the boys. It happened. It wasn't the kind of red I always wish God had given me. It was a mistake I've never repeated. The best thing I can say is that it did grow out. It kind of had a maroon tinge to it, and at least my friends were kind. I hated it.
That night as we sat down to the dinner table, Tighe grabbed his Dad's arm. "I'm going to get in trouble for this, but you'd better look at Mom's hair, 'cause I don't know what she's going to do tomorrow if you don't."
John looked at me for about a minute, then said, "Oh. You got your hair cut."
Can you believe we're still married? My expectations of what he's going to notice have really changed. However, if I changed my spaghetti sauce, I guarantee you he'd know it on the first bite.
1 comment:
A man of few words!
Maybe you could put some spaghetti sauce in your hair. ha!
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