|I have no brand loyalty. I buy whatever color is on sale.|
|She could be my twin.|
Miniature-Friend: Oh, Marianne. You didn't just say SuperCuts.
Miniature-Friend: And you're dying your own hair?
I started having flashbacks to 7th grade gym class and braced myself for the onslaught. Yet instead of going all mean-girl, Miniature-Friend grabbed another mom's phone and tried getting me an "emergency" appointment with a real salon. Much to her chagrin, she couldn't get me on the schedule that day. So she begged and pleaded. She offered to watch my kids the next day. She volunteered to drive me to a salon downtown. Just anything, anything other than Supercuts.
No woman who has birthed 3 children should have to go to Supercuts!
I'm not sure what she thinks happens at Supercuts, but I have a feeling it's a lot worse in her head. Nonetheless, I appreciated her concern for my well-being. It came from a very pure and perfectly manicured place.
The Supercuts lady who did in fact cut my hair was very nice and told me she never ever wanted to get married or have kids. I would say that makes her smarter than all those girls at Mario Tricoci's combined.
So with the extra money saved from eschewing high-end professionals, I got a new pair of shoes on sale at Macy's:
|I will be the tallest person EVER.|
If I could ever be as adorable as Miniature-Friend, perhaps I would also seek out the best salons and services to accentuate my looks. Instead, I choose to highlight the fact that I can see everybody's bald spots and roots. The power of being 6'4" in heels is awesome. I feel divine.
Until of course I have a little much of that wine at the Wine & Cheese gala and fall flat on my face in my big honking shoes. I'll be taking bets on that later.