ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘hair’

December 8, 2006
Telling you About Purple Hair
Dear Reader,

Well I was supposed to see you next Wednesday but something happened that I think I should tell you about while it’s still fresh in my mind. I went and turned my hair purple. No, not on purpose. It was a mistake.

My hairdresser, Mike, the gay guy, usually does my hair on Fridays. He’s a good boy. I feel bad for his mom on account of him not giving her any grandkids but he’s a real good boy and takes care of his momma. She can’t complain about that. Not one bit.

So I was saying, every Friday I go and get my hair done. Once a month I go and get it colored as well. It costs me $40 for the cut-n-color special. That’s what they call it. You get your hair cut and colored. They throw in a fee styling as well. My problem was, I spent too much money on fancy pancake syrup and didn’t have enough for the color part. Mike offered to do it anyway. He said I could pay him next time. I told him no. If I can’t afford to pay you then I can’t afford to get it done. Plain and simple. I don’t like to put myself in debt. It isn’t wise when you’re my age. I could kick the bucket tomorrow and poor Mike would never get his money. He wouldn’t ask Mr. Brandie for it because he’s such a polite young man. He wouldn’t want to interrupt the mourning process with business.

I decided I’d do it myself. They had discount hair coloring at the Bottom Dollar for just 3 bucks. I had three bucks so I decided what the heck, I’ll do it. I read most of the direction and started to color my hair. Oh boy, that stuff did smell bad, but it was in a bin beside the cabbage in the store. I figured that was the problem. They call that cross contamination. It can happen. They should have put some baking soda in between the bins. So I wasn’t too worried. I got it all in my hair and set the timer on the stove to 15 minutes, like it told me to do.

I was so excited dancing around the house in my underwear and a towel singing that old hair color commercial. You know the one; ‘I washed that gray right out of my hair’. That was a good commercial and they should bring it back. I was having so much fun. Then the timer went off and I washed the gray out. The only problem was I washed the gray into purple. It’s not one of those purple tints like the artsy people talk about. It was purple. Just plain purple. So now I got to go to BINGO looking like a floozy. I just don’t know what to do. It’s really not a good thing.

I sure do appreciate you stopping by to hear my story. You are good people to listen to my problems. Remember to take care of yourself and don’t use the hair color by the cabbage at Bottom Dollar. Unless you want to be looking like a purple haired floozy. Then you can go right ahead and do it. I’ll be back Wednesday to tell you about something else. I don’t know what because my head is itching me like the devil and I can’t think straight.

Sincerely,
Miss Brandie

“In middle school they label you like a soup can.”

That’s what my older daughter told me when we were driving to the store. I waited for her to continue and in a few minutes she did.

“T. says I could be a prep because I am tall, thin, and pretty. I’d have to make my hair blonde though.”

“We could pick up some hair color at the store.” I said. My heart was hoping she would say no. Just in case, I prepared my speech.

“I don’t want to have blonde hair. Maybe some highlights.”

I breathed a little easier.

“Preps don’t like to get dirty. I do.”

I recalled the many loads of grass stained jeans and muddy sneakers I have washed over the past 10 and a half years.

“I could be a tomboy” She told me. “Or an athlete. I like sports.”

She went on to tell me about all the labels she could be. I listened but my heart felt heavy. I didn’t want her to label herself. I didn’t want anyone else to do it either.

“So, have you figured out what you are?” I asked after a few minutes.

“I’m a homeschooler, I guess.”

I was a bit apprehensive when I asked her about the homeschooler label.

“It means I can be anything I want.”

My heart was no longer heavy. I hoped she would feel that way for the rest of her life.

I parked the car and told her to take her preppy, brainy, athletic, goth tomboy rear-end over to get a cart. I had a big smile on my face. Until the youngest chimed in.

“I want to color my hair purple!”