The house smells like pears tonight and it’s really quite pleasant. I should do this more often.
I’m one of those people who is stupid enough to pay $40 for a scented candle (or more often, I get given them as presents) and then just stare at them for months because I can never find the “right” occasion to light them.
I’m sure I’m not the only one.
However it seemed like a “right” enough occasion after yesterday’s excitement… and I just spent 4 hours and over $200 getting my hair done (and done in such a way that it’s meant to look like I haven’t spent 4 hours at the salon) so I felt the need to chill out and burn some more money while I was at it.
I genuinely only visit the hairdresser 2 or 3 times a year. The cost is a big factor in that (and it really doesn’t cost any more to cut off 4 inches of regrowth versus 2 inches). Time is another huge factor, because most weeks I simply don’t have 4 hours to waste. I’ve had the same salon booking for many years – two tones of foils, top section only, and then a trim and a bit of thinning. The reason why it takes 4 hours is that I have tons of hair – it always takes at least 50% more dye than the stylist expects. Every. Single. Time. That’s also the reason why it costs so much. One day I may just have to stop dyeing it and embrace the fact that I’m really grey. The “before” picture is above.
I can blame my mother. She went grey in her 20s and just lived with it. I never knew her with brown hair.
I’m more vain than she is though – that’s not a matter of debate. I started pulling out grey hairs when I was 14 or so, and managed to keep that up for many years until it became too much. Then, in my mid-20s, I was introduced to blonde highlights. I’m not sure that they fool anybody, but at least they help mask the magnitude of the problem for a few months. If I went back to a solid colour, I’d be dyeing my hair every couple of weeks.
It’s funny but I think a huge reason why I keep spending money on this is because I don’t want people to accuse me of letting myself go now that we’re married. At least not for a while. Not until we become so hamstrung by the mortgage or I become so wrinkly that it’s really evident that I’m just kidding myself.
So… when I’m 40 then.