Hair Apparent

The rain has come. And it brought with it my desire to stay in bed with a cup of tea and a good book. Not that I can do that with work calling but still, a girl can dream. What's the point in going out in a torrential downpour? It will only make my hair frizzy and unmanageable.

Speaking of hair, the other day I was talking with my friend Mr. Martha (as I call him because he is so Martha Stewart but with way better outfits at Gay Pride). He likes to give me fashion advice. Some days he will give me the once-over and say in his Salvadoran accent, "Honey, this outfit is working for you. Mmmhmm." I like those days. But the other day as we stood there talking, we got on the topic of hair. I said that my roots were showing. He gave a glance to the offending grays and said, with a bit of a snicker, "Honey, you've gotta take care of that." I countered with, "I was thinking I could start a new trend of embracing gray hair. Hey, if Taylor can do it, so can I!" He wouldn't budge. "No! You will look OLD," he said with an aghast look on his face. (This from a man in his 40's with black hair speckled with salt and pepper strands.)

Would I? I have been coloring my hair since I was 17. I have all but forgotten what my "natural" hair color is. I recall it was something of a mousy brown, dull and lifeless. So not me. I've run the gamut from fiery redhead to smoldering brunette to white hot blonde. Why not go gray? It's so difficult to be unique nowadays. This could really set me apart. AND save me buckets of money cuz looking this good takes mad cash and a good two hours at the salon. It's almost embarrassing.

Speaking of embarrassing, I once let the Tomato color my hair. There were a bunch of us hanging out at his apartment- Mikey and Jenny Two Times were there- and we all got the idea to color our hair. Tomato convinced me that I would look stunning with some blonde streaks in my (then) red hair. He always has had a way of convincing me. (Damn you Tomato!) He puts the plastic cap on my head and proceeds to use the hook thingamabob to pull strands of hair through the holes. He is not delicate. I am pretty sure pieces of my tender scalp were lost in the effort. He applies the bleaching solution and we all sit there, with our respective dyes on our heads, talking and watching TV. When it came time to rinse the color out, I leaned over the bathtub and Tomato set about rinsing out the color. As he rinsed, he began to chuckle. He tried to hold back his laughter but his laugh is not one to be contained. It is as big as his personality. I began to panic. Asking him, with water streaming in my eyes and mouth, "What!? What IS it!?" He said "Nothing!" as he firmly held my head under the water. I knew something was up. "WHAT!? What did you DO!?" To which his laugh burst forth and I jumped up from the bathtub, head dripping wet, to peer into the mirror.

To my horror, my reflection showed that I had turned into a calico cat.

There were red pieces that gradually became orange which then became yellow and then white. All in one strand! It was patchy and multicolored. It was . . .horrendous. The others flocked to the bathroom after hearing my shriek of horror. They couldn't contain their laughter either. It was, in retrospect, hilarious but at the time, I was devastated. My hair. My hair looked like a cat!

I grabbed a baseball cap from Tomato and made my way home. When I got up in the morning I ran into my sister in the hallway. She looked at me surprised and asked "Ummm, what happened to your hair?" Oops! I had forgotten in my slumber the mortification that was my current 'do. We rushed off to the local beauty supply store for bleach. After three sessions of bleaching my hair, I turned into a Sharon Stone impersonator. It actually ended up being one of my favorite hair colors.

Apparently, I am a hair chameleon.