I am having a problem. With my hair. I know — this is on track to be the most interesting blog post ever, right? Read on, fascinated followers!

My hair is kind of gray. Not totally but enough to make me want to hide those pesky harbingers of all things wrinkly and tired. So I have been coloring my hair for years. But lately, no matter how much I spend or how much of an expert my colorist believes herself to be, within two weeks of coloring my hair I find myself topped with a glowing mass of brassiness. It turns kind of an auburn shade, which isn’t as offensive as the orangey color that follows closely behind. So recently I read that Courtney Cox swears by Clairol’s no-brass brunette, and it’s only $9. Being easily swayed by celebrity recommendations, I went out and got myself a box. And you know what? It’s about the same as what my extremely talented Redken colorists were achieving. But about $91 cheaper. So that’s one problem kind of solved.

Then there’s the style, or lack thereof. I like pictures of myself best when I had longish straight hair with no bangs. But it has been suggested to me that this isn’t the most becoming style for my longish face, that bangs would cover the nascent wrinkles on my forehead, and that I should have some kind of layering going on. So I’ve had some layers added, and have had sideswept bangs for a while. But I’m not much of a hairstylist, and with all that going on, I still manage to make it look straight, flat and boring, and usually end up with all of it in a ponytail or at least with my bangs pinned back because I can’t stand feeling them on my face.

So with this history, I trotted into the salon last week. The salon, here in this smallish town, is supposedly ranked one of the top 200 salons in the country. (I will confess that the reason I went was because my friend told me that they offer you a glass of wine while you get  your haircut. I actually told the stylist that, and she looked at me with just a bit more fear than she had before while telling me that since my appointment was at 9am, she hadn’t thought that would be appropriate, but that if I wanted it, she’d go get me a glass. After the briefest consideration, I assured her that I did not actually WANT a glass of wine, but that I liked knowing I COULD have one if I wanted one. We talked less after that.) Anyway, we consulted initially. (This was before the wine conversation). She told me the same stuff everyone has always told me and I consented to layers and softness around my face, and even let her cut it pretty short. I might’ve uttered the word “bob” at some point, which I think led to the current issue. Which is that I have round head now. It’s a little shorter in the back and I still have bangs, and some stuff coming forward into my face. It actually looks cute when I look in a mirror at the back of my head, but when I turn around and see it with my face it looks quite weird. Maybe because it’s new. Maybe because it’s cute and that is one word that I just have never felt described me in the least… (I’m kinda tall, and not teeny weeny, and just not…cute.) The Major’s first reaction? “Oh, you got ROUND HEAD.” Just what every girl wants to hear when arriving home with a new do. Thanks, buddy!

Maybe it will grow on me. (At least I’m sure it will grow out.)