I was unfaithful

No, I wasn't unfaithful to Rick, but to Jean-Pierre, my hair dresser, the only professional stylist who has touched my hair in 15 years.

When he styles, he cuts almost hair by hair, dry, wet, dry. His head massages are enough to relax me for the week.

When it grows out it keeps its shape long after anyone would imagine possible.

He has clients who come from Holland, Japan, Austria and the US (the last one being my daughter).

However, my roots were growing. I know I'm not a natural redhead, but I hate even two centimeters of roots showing. It makes me feel slovenly and slutty at best and the worst goes from there.

I was out of hair colour.

I knew I wouldn't have time to have my hair cut before I go to Geneva, Einseideln and Basel next month and probably wouldn't even have time to take care of those roots.

Thus I booked into an Argelès hair salon recommended by a Swiss friend who waits to come to Argelès to have her hair done.

I chose the color very close to my own, but the mixture was pumpkin orange. I know color darkens, but it was a worrisome short period. The color came out wonderfully.

I also had my hair trimmed leaving more than enough for Jean-Pierre to correct. She cut in about 25% of the time than he takes. It looks fine.

My heart still belongs to Jean-Pierre, but it is nice to know I have a hair backup.