Please, tell me I'm pretty.

See, I got my hair done last week. I said red. They did it in a brown copper. The copper faded and I was frustrated that it was brown. It was already not red enough and then it wasn't red at all.

So I complained.

Yes. I complained. I never complain. At least not to businesses. I don't cause problems. I don't seem anything but laid back.

But I complained. And got my hair coloured again, for free. And I got it quite red.

It's really red. Vibrant. One hair dresser said that it looked better than the coppers. My hairdresser didn't say much.

D. is getting used to it. He liked it before. It's brighter. And it's quite red.

If I had pictures I'd show you. But I don't. So please, tell me it's ok.

I like it. But I hate it when people say 'if you like it, that's the main thing'. Bugs the crap out of me. And that's all I've gotten. I'd rather no comment than that. That comment makes me need nice comments from people. No comment doesn't.

Bah. I think it looks nice. And that's the main thing.

And damn, it's red.

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