MOVarazzi

Saturday, June 4, 2011

431. They Notice Everything

I finally went to the hairdresser and got my hair highlighted to the color of a baby chick’s fluff, and chopped off about ten inches. It was now my favorite shade of blond, and it was swingy again, which was a vast improvement from the stringy brownness I had endured for the past few months.

I was not about to be mistaken for Gwyneth Paltrow, but I was still turning heads. The guy at the gas station said, “Great haircut!” as did the lady at the dry cleaners. Obviously, I had the air about me of someone who just spent an entire paycheck to look like a Clairol ad.

I couldn’t wait for my family to see the dramatic difference and offer their fawning approval.

I picked up Tall and Short from their friend’s house, and I started with the typical, “Well …?”

They did not make any favorable comments. Nor negative ones. They just failed to notice at all. I kept swinging my hair around and fluffing it up like a teenager on a first date, saying, “Do you notice anything different about me?”

“Yeah,” said Tall after my ceaseless prodding, “Is something wrong with your neck? ‘Cause you keep twitching it in that weird way.”

Now lest you think my haircut was not really that different from the old one, let me illustrate for you.

Before:

After:

When we arrived home, Tall walked right past me in the living room, still oblivious to my new great beauty.

“Oh, no, Mom!” he cried out with anguish, “Someone moved my Pokemon card!”

Before:
After:

That kid could get a job with the CIA.

MOV

2 comments:

  1. Haaa, haaa typical! Enjoy your summer hair. At least your girlfriends will notice. They always do.

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  2. Oh... I am guilty of doing to my mom what Tall did to you. But in my defense, her hair changes were not usually as drastic. Oops.

    Boys are always the last to notice cute hair cuts though. A couple years ago I finally met a lady that helped me get over my fear of hairdressers by -GASP!- actually doing what I asked instead of playing around willy nilly. Two months later my oldest brother asked me if I had gone in for a trim. He had seen me many times starting the day I had it trimmed and layered and!! ...Boys. He also failed to notice when I dyed the ends bright blue.

    ...Boys.

    ReplyDelete

When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)