Unfaithful

OK, I feel so guilty I just have to blog this and get it off my chest. I have been cheating. I am in an unfaithful relationship......................................................................With my hair dresser. You see I have this awesome hair dresser, but because she is so awesome it is impossible to get an appointment with her without waiting for a month. Now if I were smart I would book my next appointment at my present appointment and everything would be fine. But noooo! I do not like to plan ahead. Instead I like to live in this little life where the world revolves around, you guessed it, me and when I decide I want my hair done I call my hairdresser and expect to be seen tomorrow, if not sooner. So what happens is I usually end up calling around to someone that can get me in that day, and come to the realization that there is a reason there books are wide open. So I here by solemnly swear that I will not cheat on my hair dresser again. I feel like I need to buy her flowers and apologize to her, begging to take me back. I am a cheating hair whore and it has got to stop, for the sake of my hair if nothing else. Yesterday I went to a day spa close to my house thinking they were sure to have some talented stylist. Well lets just say today I went back to that spa to get it redone. I loved the color of my two tones highlights, however the minute I walked out the salon it looked like I had three weeks of regrowth already. I mean what hair dresser does not know to go all the way to the root. This isn't rocket science. Especially when my chief initial complaint was how I hate that having blonde highlights requires so much upkeep. Also the highlights were very sporadic and it looks like he got drunk and decided I will stick one here, and here, and here.....
So today it looks better but not great and I can't wait to go back to my old faithful hairdresser who knows my hair better then I know myself. I swear I will cheat on my husband before I ever cheat on my hair dresser again. JUST KIDDING BEN! Well unless Ben Affleck knocks on my door wearing a pink thong and holding a Kelly Clarkson CD.