Tone it down a notch

Yesterday, I traded in my strawberry blond locks for a lighter look. Thanks to a relative, I tracked down a salon and stylist within my price range and got the job done. The hairdresser put in more blond highlights than I expected, but I’m happy with the finished product.

I went from this…

With Chris!
Ameena!

To this:

Ta-da!

I didn’t go Lindsay Lohan full blond transformation, yet got rid of more red than I’d initially planned. The hairdresser suggested I return to my dark red roots when winter rolls around, but I’ll pass on that for now.

I had a fun conversation with my stylist, who ended up summarizing his life for me. He’s 37 now but still wounded from a heartbreak that took place fourteen years ago. His first love burned him real bad. The story itself was disturbing and made me worry about experiencing the same fate myself. When I’m pushing 40, am I still going to be upset at the guys who did me wrong in my early twenties? I pray to rise above the resentment, but I understand how one’s first big relationship can leave a permanent mark like that. No one should carry anger or sadness for such a long period of time, so I’ll do everything possible to avoid that.

We covered a lot of ground, and I quickly discovered that he was a victim of workplace bullying. He’d never been made fun of before, so the concept of harassment was foreign to him.

“Have you ever been bullied?” he asked.

What a question.

“In junior high, but isn’t that the case for everyone?”

“Not me. It wasn’t until I started working here that it happened. I mean, backstabbing and gossiping count as bullying, right?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

When you group a bunch of young, twenty-something aged people together, catty behavior typically ensues. It’s not surprising to encounter bullies in a young atmosphere, but these folks are grown adults. They have spouses, children, and careers, yet feel compelled to pick on others. What a waste of time.

Last night, I caught up with some University of Arizona friends, always a treat! The next 72 hours are going to be a pain, as a hurricane is expected to hit the east coast and I’m packing up for my big move. Tuesday night: I’ll do anything for you to get here early. Until then, nerves govern.

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