A Home Dye Job and a Shearing

Lord, things have not gone well with the hair this week. It grew very quickly in Germany and has become increasingly difficult to manage, sticking out and curling whereever and whenever it wants. The color has also grown out and I felt I could not afford to have my hair professionally colored both here and again in Italy, so I brought some hair color with me from Germany. I bought a dark blonde shade and applied it carefully, washing it off after the required 30 minute wait. Unfortunately, the color wasn't dark enough to give good coverage over the red and yellow stripes I'd had applied in Rothenburg, so those colors still show through. In artificail light I noticed the golden highlights have a greenish cast to them. I don't look good in green.

Yesterday I walked around the corner to a salon, with my datebook in hand, to schedule an appointment for a haircut. I greeted the attractive, blonde stylist and told her I needed a haircut by making cutting motions with my fingers near my hair. I then held out my datebook so she could give me a date, which she did, today at 10:00.

I walked down to the salon this morning and waited my turn. A lady, originally from England, was there and translated for the stylist and I. I told her she could do what she liked, but I didn't want my hair too short like it was in Italy. She relayed that she wanted to cut off about 1 centimeter. I replied that that would be fine. Well, an inch and a half later, I have a Halle Berry haircut, only shaggier. I don't look like Halle Berry, folks. I am short, fat, blotchy skinned, and unattractive. My hair is shorter than it was in Italy and she razored the sides to nearly the skull, but as usual, one side is visibly longer than the other, which I have been whacking at with a cuticle scissors, trying to even it up. I started to cry in the chair and sat there for the last 5 minutes with tears pouring down my face. The stylist and I were not on speaking terms as I paid and departed. When I reached home I crawled in bed and cried for another 45 minutes.

I don't know if she really thought this hairstyle would be attractive on me or if she thought it was humorous to make a homely woman even uglier. Some women have this tendency to try to make other women look and feel as unattractive as possible so as to maintain their status as the better looking one. You know what I mean; the "friend" who sabotages your diet; the family member who comments that you've gained 5 pounds and are looking a bit "bloated; the co-worker who tells you that you look great in orange stripes and then sits back smugly, knowing you look like a deranged pumpkin. We women should be sticking together instead of tearing each other down. It's pretty sad.

At any rate, I seriously considered not leaving the house for the next two weeks, but I will have to go out and get food. How the heck am I going to go back to Italy and face the waiter? Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. If he didn't notice me then, he won't notice me now. I think I might just have to give up on the dream of actually be an reasonably attractice woman one day. Things are just not going in my favor thus far.