Home OP-ED Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow – Part 2

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow – Part 2

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[img]1325|left|Alex Campbell ||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — I couldn’t take it anymore; my hairstyle just wasn’t working. More times than not, I’d look in the mirror and stick my tongue out. Not a good sign. I started obsessing about platinum blond pixie cuts. After a few weeks of my boring non-bob, I went back to hair stylist Anthony and showed him picture of pixies. He was into it. When I told him I wanted to go platinum, “like we used to do,” he was really into it. I think I saw him salivate as he covered me with a black stylist cape.

The Long Beginning

[img]1361|left|||no_popup[/img]First, he cut my hair. There wasn’t a lot to start with, but somehow the cape quickly became filled with excess hair. When he was done, my head looked like a mushroom. My heart sank. I had made a horrible mistake—I looked like someone’s bad seventh grade school photo. Weakly, I smiled at Anthony and waited for him to apply the bleach.

Apply it he did. Whoo-ee, that bleach stung my tender little head! As I sat in the chair waiting for the harsh chemicals to strip away my natural color and protective oils, I look around the salon. All the clients looked the same. They were women with long brown hair getting blond highlights. I thought it must be boring for the stylists to keep doing the same old style day after day. Then I come in and tell my stylist to cut off all my hair and bleach me to within an inch of my life. No wonder Anthony was so happy to work on me!

I was relieved when it came time to rinse my hair. When I was all rinsed and looked in the mirror, I was shocked to see that my hair was not platinum, but rather yellow. Was this really happening? Anthony mumbled something to his shampoo girl. Another stylist came over and told me that they were going to put the toner in next, so that it would be white blond, rather than yellow. Thank goodness.

I Just Don’t Comprehend

After the toner was put in, I was rinsed and conditioned like a queen. As soon as my head came up from under the towel, a flock of stylists, and even the owner of the salon, came over to see. They began speaking salon-ese, talking about quantities, and amount of time in the hair. I couldn’t understand, but I got the feeling they were pleased with the job Anthony had done. The bleach had changed the texture of my hair such that it became less soft and slippery, and more chunky. No more mushroom head. The bleach was not kind to my sensitive scalp. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say my scalp had texture, too. No one could see that. What they could see was that I looked like a celebrity, especially after I put on my bedazzled shades and left the salon. Ahh, at last I had a wedding look that would knock people’s socks off!

I haven’t done something this funky with my hair in many years. I feel young, carefree and…different. If I’m going to have short hair, it’s gonna be outrageous. It’s great. I love it. I’ll keep it like this. Till the wedding. Then I’m growing it right back out to the bob I had a month ago. That’s right. You know how much work it is to look this good?

I paid $25 for a designer conditioner I have to put in my hair once a week. First, I have to put in the pre-wash. There’s this stuff that resembles meringue that I put in my hair when it’s dry. After a few minutes, I wash my hair in the sink, then put in the special conditioner. I have to leave that on for a few more minutes before rinsing it out in the shower. What a pain in the neck. Literally.

It’s been two weeks since I got my new ‘do. Already I feel like I need a haircut. Anthony will trim around my ears and neck for free, but I’m going to need a cut once a month. I am sure I’ll have to bleach it again at least once more before the wedding, which is only three months away. I’ll look smashing with my chic hairstyle. The pictures will be gorgeous. After that, I’ll invest in some cute hats and head scarves to wear for the next year or so while my hair grows out. How fun that will be—I’ll do you all a favor and spare you the play by play on that process. Or maybe I won’t.

Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com