Several of you have taken the time to compliment my new "digs." Thanks for your kind words. All credit goes to Seven at Blogs Gone Wild for taking my ideas, adding his special touch of genius, and creating a lovely new home for my stuff.
Things don't usually turn out this good when I decide to embark on some form of self improvement. While I bask in this little victory, I thought you might enjoy another glimpse into the oddity that is my life, and where a change I made did NOT work out quite so well.
Anyone who's ever lived with teenagers knows that it can be a bumpy road at times. There are often more disagreements, hurt feelings, and rebellion than moments of peace and tranquility. I think that's why those special bonding moments, when they happen, are even MORE special. When my oldest daughter was still in high school we shared such a Special Moment.
Kim worked part time at a local grocery store and one Monday night found her at the center of a swirl of juicy gossip. Apparently her crush on the bag boy had been discovered by a really miserable co-worker who then took great pleasure in telling the bag boy about Kim's crush. Having been so rudely "outed," Kim wasn't looking forward to her next shift at the market. When she got home after work early Tuesday evening there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth as she told me about the horrors of being the object of pity and speculation from her coworkers. After about an hour of watching her get more depressed, I thought a little distraction might be in order.
There's very little that can perk up a depressed teen like the possibility of their parent(s) doing something REALLY stupid. Aiming for that coveted Mother of the Year Award yet again, I felt it was my duty to provide such an opportunity for Kim. Taking courage, car keys, and daughter in hand, we left for the drug store. My brilliant plan involved me dying my hair, and letting Kim be an integral part of and witness to the potential disaster. My plan succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.
At the store, my dejected teen chose the color, which was labeled, innocently enough, "Mahogany." So far, so good. Our purchase completed, we scurried back home to the sanctuary of the bathroom and my transformation from mousy brown with glimmers of gray to a ravishing redhead began in earnest.
Mere seconds after applying the magic goop to my hair, we were both stunned to see that the gel was starting to turn...uh...purple. Trying not to panic, I pretended to be unconcerned and carried on with the job at hand. After the requisite 25 minutes it was time for the rinse cycle. Imagine my horror when the entire tub turned a lovely brick color! Being a "cup half full" person, I figured that if so much dye was making its way merrily down my drain I had little to fear, right? I mean, how much could possibly be left in my hair? Lots, as it turned out. By this time, Kim was having a ball. This promised to be one of her mother's best Stupid Moments, and she was thrilled with the possibilities!
The next step was the toweling off and the first glimpse in the mirror; then the swoon and screech of horror. With fingers trembling from the dawning realization of JUST how stupid I'd been, I took blow dryer in hand and turned it to the hottest setting. With one ballet-like move I turned and blasted the satisfied smirk right off Miss Kimberly's face! Feeling better after that piece of retribution was accomplished, I began to dry my hair and tried to come to grips with the fact that there was absolutely NOTHING subtle about the change I had just wrought. I was a brick-colored siren of the worst variety.
Have I mentioned that I'm a master of bravado? Well, I am. By the time Kim finished wiping away her tears of laughter I had already convinced myself that I was truly destined for life as a redhead. A BRIGHT red redhead. When Kim realized I wasn't going to collapse in humiliation there was no more fun involved for her so she took herself to the living room to allow me some time with my new look.
Now that my audience was gone, the full horror of my situation hit me. This was a Bad Thing...a Very Bad Thing...that I had done to myself. I had to find a way to fix it. Immediately. It was then that I realized that Kimberly and I, in blissful and complete ignorance, had used a permanent color rather than the temporary rinse I had planned on using. I was a flaming mahogany temptress. Unfortunately, all I was tempting people to do was laugh.
The only thing to do was call my hairdresser and beg her for her next available appointment. I made the call and found that I'd have to live as a redhead until Saturday. As I mentally calculated how many sick days I had left, I realized that hiding out in the bathroom wasn't an option.
Wednesday morning arrived much too early for my liking. With no other options, I boldly went where angels fear to tread - my office. I knew my coworkers would never be able to let this glorious transformation pass unnoticed or without comment! I was right.
I’ll spare you the most inane of the comments, but suffice it to say the gentlemen (and I use that term loosely), likened me to things like a walking carrot or a missing light bulb from the red light district, and the women simply hugged me and mumbled words of sympathy. I appreciated the support of my female friends. Funnily enough, I didn't share in the good humor or the men. Being the good sport that I am, though, I merely mentioned that I had a drawer full of rubber bands and knew how to deploy them for maximum profitability and infliction of pain. I suggested they either cease and desist, or toddle off to their homes and come back wearing cups!
Time waits for no woman, nor does shampooing five times a day help a great deal. My only hope was that my hairdresser would be able to somehow fix this mess and restore me to normalcy.
Saturday morning when I entered the salon, Rose, my stylist, worked some of her special magic and eventually turned me back into a brunette with some subtle red highlights. The ensuing cut and color left a huge dent in my checkbook, but I didn't care. With a solemn oath to Rose that I would never try to dye my hair myself again, I was off and the world was again a friendly place for me.
All things considered, it was a valuable lesson. I've decided to find the entire episode charming and a bit eccentric on my part. Not an altogether bad way to be, I think.
So there you have it, my friends; another experience under my belt, a brief moment of sacrificial love for my daughter, and entertainment value for everyone. Oh yeah, another amusing aspect to this story is that Kim later discovered that the color, "Mahogany", was one of Clairol's new shades in their African American line of colors! Ah, well. At least for a few days I was culturally relevant!
