The roots of my hair are white like they were when I was one. My last dye job was a brown or red. The white is more noticeable against the dark color.
I am sick of my hair. Sick of changing the color. Sick of putting it up. Sick of the weight of it on my scalp. I told Roland that I need it cut. We cannot afford the expense right now.
He tells me to cut my own hair. What?!?!? I can't see the back of my head. How am I supposed to make it even?
I've been cutting his hair for the last six months. I don't think I've done a good job. As I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder. What if I cut my pigtails off? How would that work?
I take the scissors to my hair. There is no turning back. I'm surprised at how it turned out. I had a similar haircut before. My head is no longer weighed down by a mass amount of hair. I am happy with how light it feels.
I have a bottle of blonde hair dye. It was on sale. I may put it in next week to even out the contrasting colors. Jenna doesn't want me to be blonde. I don't know why. Could be because her sisters' mother tried to maintain a blondness and we don't want the reminder.
On the other hand, the white roots that are there are the same as my mother's. The white hair she had when she died. I can live with that.
This week will be the last week that the pool will be opened this year. I thought I would complete the summer by going.
The clouds are heavy and the air is filled with moisture - finally. I notice all the gravel in the driveway is wet - except for under the car. I like the misty fog surrounding the hills and watching as it lifts into the air.
Beautiful!
