Here's the reality: It's been 12-plus weeks since a colorist saw your hair and 18 (or more) since anyone took scissors to it (not counting that embroidery scissors moment so that you could find your eyes, which does NOT count). The mirror isn't telling the whole story.
This I witnessed first-hand today. On myself. Because, after experiencing the weird and totally creepy experience called the "caught my eye in a cosmetics counter mirror and said to myself 'what in the hell is my mother doing in Macy's at 2:30 in the afternoon??? moment' " I made an appointment, stat, for some salon love.
Two hours later (yeah, it takes some of us longer than others), with newly naturally blonde hair I walked out. Happier and more confident. Clearly hair matters. And time away for a little "me" time totally does a body (and a face) good.
So, when I came home, I did expect some "Wow, mom!" moments. Or at least a "Hey, babe!" mention. Here's what I got:
1. From the Tweenager: You look great! Nice top.
2. From the eight-year-old: Where have YOU been???
3. From the 11-year-old: I scraped my knee in Timmy's pool. Where are the band-aids??
4. And from the spouse: How did your meetings go??
I am so glad that my daughter, the Tweenager, witnessed this. Because later, and in a conspiratorial tone, she asked "Dad didn't notice the hair???" "Nope," I replied. "Dork," she muttered. "I know," I added. "Looks great, though, 'bout time, too." She adds. "Thanks." I offer.
Now she knows. It's not about them. It's about you. Go do something for yourself and enjoy it. You'll feel better. Honest. Just ask my Tweenager.
Now to schedule the facelift. LOL.