I never thought my hair could or would be that shade, but today was a glorious day. I told my friend at the salon that I wanted my hair to look "white." Our conversation follows.
Christina: "You want it white? Like, bleach blonde?"
V: "No, like. . . like my grandma's hair. Or like that lady you just permed. I want HER white hair."
C: "I don't know if I can. . . "
V: "We're hairstylists. You're supposed to be able to make my hair white. It's okay because I'm saying I understand my hair could catch fire! I'm not worried. Let's do it."
C: "I just don't think we have the same idea of what white is. I think Santa Claus has white hair."
V: "Perfect! I'll take it! Make me look like Mrs. Claus!!"
So we began. And somehow my hair turned yellow. I loved it. I would have kept it, but my mom would have been mad at me for ruining holiday pictures. That, and I don't think the husband is as okay with yellow as I am.
So a half hour later I have white hair. And I'm quite happy. Because I have Santa hair. And I love Santa.