Monday, March 1, 2010
Fun with Hair Color
Many people choose sky-diving, bungee-jumping or body piercing when they feel risky or need an emotional boost. I select a new hair color. I’ve tried platinum blondes, white blondes, and an occasional golden blonde. I was feeling especially risky, however when I spotted the auburn-haired girl. She looked so happy! Her hair was shiny and her complexion pictured on the box was flawless.
I made sure Miss Clairol 27 wasn’t watching as I slipped this new number into my shopping cart. I didn’t dare look back, knowing that if all went as planned I might never return to #27.
I couldn’t wait to get home and get started but my family expected supper and the kids needed help with homework. I decided I would have to wait until the following day. Everyone would be out of the house, and I could give my full attention to my new –found friend, Loreal 252.
I began the application process, first coating the roots and gray hair. I waited the appropriate time and covered the rest of the hair until saturated. I looked in the mirror to see if my hair was going to indeed be blood-red. No, more of a brownish-red. Not bad. I waited a few more minutes.
Finally it was time to wet hair, lather, rinse, condition, wait, rinse, and towel dry. I could hardly stand the suspense. I peeked in the mirror. Neon Orange! Not auburn, golden blonde or burnt anything. Glow-in-the-dark neon orange!
“Don’t panic”, I reminded myself. Sometimes the color is different when the hair is wet so I blow dried it thinking, “The only way heat will change this color is if it catches on fire!”
Have I mentioned I’m a pastor’s wife? Have I mentioned this was on a Wednesday, shortly before time to go to mid-week service? I considered faking an illness so I could stay home but then thought, “Hey, it’s only hair, right?”
My pastor-husband said, “Hmm… you’ve colored you hair again” and disappeared into the bathroom. He thought I didn’t hear him laugh like a crazy hyena, but have I mentioned we live in a trailer? You can hear someone breathe from the other end.
Through tears my twelve –year old cried, “Mom! Please color it back! It’s not right, Mom ! It’s not right!”
I received all sorts of comments and stares at church. Friends gave me the usual hug-greeting, asked how my day was, etc, then walked away as if I’ve always had neon-orange hair. One of my favorite responses was from a deacon who looked at me carefully and said, “Something about you is different.” Hello! I have orange hair!
I had just about decided to stick with orange until Sunday rolled around. It was time to return to church and my loyal friends. Those who had not seen me on Wednesday admitted to being a little surprised, but then laughed it off thinking, “Oh, that preacher’s wife is at it again, bless her heart.”