The only thing I half way have control over is my hair. I just got home from "Steve"...he's a fifty something, ex-Californian/moved here from the big island. I got to my appointment at five til ten as my app. was at ten. He wasn't there yet but came right in...At ELEVEN, I called Ray and whispered that he was just going back to mix up the color. The whole hour prior was him consulting with me and discussing all the cardboard samples from color books, with the fake hair stapled to the ends. I did start to become concerned at this point, and was tempted to leave when he went back to mix the five bowls of color. After about ten minutes, he came out for his apron...I thought surely to ....he is ready to begin---nope just getting the apron. During his precolor conference he talked alot about how my hair was past the color levels of normal on the charts and needed to have other shades woven in, which I thought ok, I'm in a nice shop in Waikiki and maybe it is over processed...He worked and worked and highlighted every tendril and I've paid and come home. It's hardly any different from when I went in. Still the basic dark roots with a few muting shades woven through, distracted only by the super short bangs from my last mishap there with another stylist. If I had just got out of bed and looked, I wouldn't have noticed a difference. Except my really blonde that I liked is gone and I basically look like hell. Plus, the ride home in the jeep didn't help much, and I had to hear Ray say, "I've always thought you spent too much on your hair..." Ray better be learning to fly because he might be going over the balcony...