Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Circa 1969
HAIR! All of a sudden I could break into song!  Do you remember the hot Broadway play of the 60's, "Hair?"  Probably not, I know there are very few of us that are that old!

Circa 1971
Here's the story and I'm sticking to it. Over my lifetime, my sister, AJ, has had perfect hair. It's colored just so, it's coiffed perfectly and she likes it that way. Over my lifetime, my hair is not colored just so, it is never coiffed perfectly and the frustration simply drives me from the mirror. Oh, AJ has tried through the years to help me,  cajole, try to teach me, praise me for effort, nothing much has worked.

Circa 1977
I try different hair styles. I thought I had one, the last one. However, in the summer heat of Arizona, I could tell the weight of my dense, thick hair was not cooperating with this weather. So it was time for a change. I called my good friend, who like my sister, always has hair so lovely, it could be photographed at any moment.  She gave me the name of her hairdresser.  I won't share his name, for obvious reasons.
Circa 2003
I walked into this place. Very chi-chi. They offered me the beverage of my choice, alcoholic or non-alcoholic. I knew right then, this little "beauty appointment" is going to cost me dearly.  Along came "Mr. Hairdresser." He had an artistic vision.  I know, most of you are all ready saying, "Jene, for God's sake, run!" Well, I was ready for a change, so I stayed put. After all, it's my 40th wedding anniversary soon and I want to look swell for Foxtrot Freddie.  Mr. Hairdresser decided I should be a redhead. I hesitated, but told him I was a strawberry blonde in my younger days. The haircolor went on.

The towel unwrapped and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, who is that looking back at me in the mirror? I didn't hide my displeasure.  Mr.  Hairdresser said, "Oh, I think it's lovely. It makes your eyes look so green."
"My effen eyes are blue you moron and I hate this mouse brown hair!!"  I thought to my self, but I didn't say it outloud.  Guess my "green" eyes gave it away though as he suggested maybe a few highlights were in order.  I agreed.  He asked if I was sure, so I went and mixed the peroxide myself.  (No, not really, but can you see it?) He dabbed abit here and there.

By the way, this is a flattering picture of the color. My flash did wonders.

Then it was time for the cut.  Now readers, you are rolling eyes, aren't you, saying, "RUN, FORREST JENE RUN!!! No, I stayed put. Out came the razor. I haven't had a razor cut since I was in 6th grade and got a pixie. He hacked here and there. I asked if he knew what a pixie haircut was and told him I didn't want one. He didn't laugh. By then I had Edward Scissorhands cutting my hair.   Hair was flying everywhere.  By then I just resigned myself to taking out a home equity loan to pay for this life lesson and sat quietly.

All I can say is give me the go-go boots, I'm on a roll!

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