Like a large portion of the American adult female population, I color my hair.  It is naturally very dark brown and I add a little red to it, leaving it a very dark auburn.  For a while last winter I had blonde highlights instead, so now the places that had the blonde tend to fade out after a month or so-- leaving a very unshiny red that can even look orange if left unattended for too long.  I never let it get that bad, but it was looking very faded on Monday when I recolored it.
    Today an older man at work asked me what I had done to my hair.  I stated the obvious: I had colored it.  He then proceeded to hold his fist out, thumb pointing horizontally, before slowly giving me the thumbs down.  I was utterly shocked, and let him know that I had actually just redone the same color I had previously, it had just been faded.  He told me to let it fade again!  
    I have several feelings about this, so here we go:  Whose hair had he been looking at?  Two days ago my hair was getting dangerously close to Bozo territory!  It was obvious to anyone that it was painfully neglected mom hair!  That's fine if he thinks the current color is ugly--  I actually prefer my hair hot pink (which is inconvenient considering my husband's profession requires me to look like a normal person) so as long as I like it, no one else has to.  But I can't imagine a single person on the planet choosing what it was over what it is!  Next-- did I forget about asking him what he thought?  No, I'm pretty sure I didn't.  I really had no interest in what he thought, so I wouldn't have mistakenly asked.  No one should ever make an unsolicited comment about someone else's appearance unless it is a compliment!  Everyone knows that!  Was he born in a barn?  And if he was, even the goats know not to say something unkind about a woman's hair.  That kind of etiquette even crosses the species barrier!  Have I ever told him how unfashionable his glasses are?  Of course not!  Because it would be rude.  
    So it kind of took the wind out of my sails this morning.  Then I got mad because it hurt my feelings, when I truly don't care what he thinks of it.  So it shouldn't have hurt my feelings.  But it did.  Because, contrary to popular belief, even tough girls are still girls.  We should be treated as such.  Just because I can lift a heavy ice bucket by myself doesn't make me one of the guys.  If you don't have something nice to say, Dude, shut the front door!
    So, that was my day.  How was yours?

CL