We’ve been promising you a surprise and today’s the day for the big reveal. First hint: You may have noticed a few changes on our Header. For one thing, we’ve gone from ‘chicks who rock and write’ to ‘Fiction in the Fast Lane’!! Woo Woo. We’ve also moved our names to the side of the header instead of beneath it. Looks classy, huh? BUT, the biggest change on the header is: TA DA – we have a new rider!!! The fabulous, fun and fantastic Leanne Banks has officially hopped in the ‘vert and will be riding along with us from now on. Yay!!!!!
So, please give Leanne a big warm Rider welcome, will you? We just know you’re going to love having her along for the ride as much as we are!
Without further ado … heeeeeerrrrrreeeee’sssssss Leannnneeeee…..
I suppose I could have chosen something profound for my first as an “official rider”, but my brain kept returning to the subject of … hair.
I was born bald. My mom told me the advantage of bald babies is that they look cleaner longer.
Since I was the third daughter, I’m thinking that may have been a good thing. When my hair finally came in, it was blonde with the consistency of cotton candy. I always got bad bedhead after a nap. As a result, my mother kept my hair short for the first ten years of my life while I dreamed of long locks that reached all the way down my back. With my fine hair? Never. Gonna. Happen.
Teenage years hit along with hormones and my hair turned the color of dirt. So highlighting began. First with a paint-brush. I ended up with leopard spots. Then came the cap.
Have you noticed that we sometimes change our hair when we go through big life changes? In my case, I chopped mine off in a pixie cut six months after I got married. Surprised the heck out of my husband. After my first child was born, I briefly went red. After my second child was born, I dyed my hair dark brown.
With varying success, I’ve had foils for highlights and lowlights for the last – (sheesh!) ten years… or longer. Lately, however, I’ve begun to resent the moolah and perhaps even more so, the time spent rotting in the hairdresser’s chair. Every six to eight weeks, shell out the money and spend two to three hours in “the chair”. So I’ve decided to rebel and attempt to handle most of my hair color on my own. It’s not as if the hairdressers do a perfect job. (woman in foils Photo credit: Alan Berner, The Seattle Time)
Surely I should be able to mess up my own hair for a lot less money. Yes?
What about you? Have you ever made a dramatic change to your hair? Do you master your hair color? Or does it master you? How often do you go to “the chair”?
I’m giving away all three books from my Silhouette Desire series: Medici Men.