No, not the Bermuda Triangle.
No, Not the UFO crash in Roswell
Or even how to get a wine cork out of a wine bottle (though I did see how to do it).
Ladies, I am talking about hair color. For some twenty years I have experimented with over the counter hair colors trying to find the right potions to make my hair the way my stylist does it-without spending a fortune in the process. I try to save a buck, but it only results in more money spent because inevitably my hair turns pumpkin orange or a purple cranberry shade (much like you would see on a older man, trying to hang on to his youth of days gone by).
But yesterday, a revelation was made. While at the dance studio with Elaina I met (for the first time that day) a lady that immediately began giving me some advice on my hair. After some discussion she said she could do my hair. To which I told her that I had planned on going that day to my stylist. She said, "We can do this". And so like a certifiable crazy person, I put my head literally in the hands of a stranger. One that I later learned was not a licensed cosmetologist-or even in cosmetology school. But she told me that she did her own hair and for whatever reason, I found it comforting. Her hair color was very pretty. Erin, what I found out her name was, took me by the hand and together we went to a nearby Sally's Beauty Supply Store in the hopes of finding not one but two hair colors. My hair has alot of gray in it requiring double processing of a base color followed by pulling it through a cap or foiling. Clearly again, I recognize the fact that I am not sane. Two processes, people!!
After what seemed hours we picked two shades and off I went to my house to begin the first process of a base color by myself. Had I not known from my own hairdresser that when my hair is rinsed from the first chemical process that I look like Morticia Adams I probably would have had a coronary.
From there I telephoned Erin to tell her that I thought that Zinnia could pull my hair through the cap. I needed to go and pick up Smooth who was at her home anyways. She agreed, asking me to call her if Zinnia and then call her back and let her know. I spoke to Zinnia, and she felt that she was apt for the task ahead. I called Erin, who then said, "You know what, I do not feel comfortable with this, let me come over to assist". I gave the phone to Princess Z, feeling completely uncomfortable for already asking her to open her home to me and pulling my hair through a cap, much less inviting a guest to her home without consulting her. Zinnia talked to Erin and gave her directions. Before long, it was a three ring circus. There we were, two women pulling thick clumps of hair through holes on a cap on my head much the size of a pin head.
OUCH! I yelled. I flinched. I was certain they were not pulling hair but preforming a lobotomy on my freshly Gothic head.
Kids were running in and out of the house. At one point I saw chocolate in the hands of a child. I knew for certain Freddy would kill me for messing up his immaculate house. Oh! And Freddy!.... We (me and Z) were to meet our husbands as well as the Mambo King and his lovely Queen for dinner in approximately an hour from then. We would most certainly receive the wrath that all women that run late receive. And it was not one that I was used to, so I was not looking forward to it taking place.
Time began to tick away, and we soon discovered that I did not have my clothes to go to supper in. I would need to go home and shower. We concocted a plan, one that was very risky. After the bleaching process was put into my hair, I would wrap my head in Saran wrap-on top of the cap that makes me look like a chia pet- and drive in 5 o'clock rush hour to my home, in the hopes I would make it home in ten minutes. When the process would need to be washed from my head, or 1. all my hair would probably break off from being burned. 2. I would begin life anew as a bald ("she's bald Jerry!") woman. By now it was apparent that I am certifiable. But I loaded my summer stinking kids into my car and off I drove with a neon purple head (the color of the chemicals on my hair).
I walked into the door at 6pm-Freddy had already called to see where I was (LATE!). I rushed upstairs, showered, washed the chemicals from my hair and then dried it. I was so happy with the color. It looked EXACTLY like my stylist had done it. My only regret is that I didn't have time to allow it to process longer to achieve a blonder hue. I will try again next week.
Let me tell you, that by the grace of God, I walked into the restaurant only 20 minutes late. Yes, I showered, dried and fixed my hair, put on makeup, got kids loaded up and drove to the place in twenty minutes. I really should have received a medal from each man at the table for my fete, but they were in no mood for being held up. I apologised over and over and hopefully all is forgiven.
I was so happy that I have finally been able to find a color that will not turn my head orange. And I can do myself, for about $10.00!!!! Life is good. Big Daddy is on cloud nine at the $$ he will save a year. And so, frans, the mystery of hair coloring has been solved and
I have both Erin and Zinnia to thank. And thank profusely, and I will.
Oh, and if you are still wondering how to get cork out of a bottle... click here.
BTW- do you notice something else? Do you see it? Yes. Mindlife crisis. But life is what you make it. I am for Fun!