We start from a premise frivolous: colored hair.
I stopped.
I stopped because after the rainbow that I took with pride over the years that I have left, apart from a rough nest dove in head and unnatural bondage to the monthly ritual of color, is the feeling that from now on will all become mandatory aesthetic imperative, after entering the tunnel capellibianchirugheinestetismidellapellemacchie. I do not want, m'impigrisco, just the thought of having to do it makes me collapsing to the ground flooded by millions of better ideas for spending time and money.
And then, let's face it, is that if you Camuffo, if I cover them or hide them, all these horrors tricho-dermatological disappear ... Still, crouched under a layer of semi-permanent color to the multifaceted scent of wet dog, even worse, s'incattiviscono but do not go away.
Both aesthetic chase chemistry will not help bring back the years that have passed, so I decided not to hide under the weight of the cosmetics counter and get rid of this yoke by their lives hell.
The problem is that not everyone is willing to betray the order of perfumery, to leave the pharmacy without a single post-it and forget the intense relationship with the clerk of the cosmetics department, so start with a few jokes (" Hey, a fight with the hairdresser? "), smiling a little 'argument, to touch the topic, circumspect. Slowly approach with soft tones to make you see the inevitable. Nth serene look while you explain your decision in a moment of complete clarity, you scold (!), they tell you you're wrong, that's not true that you do not need, it hurts stop.
How toxic.
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