Thunder Storms, Bad Color and Lesbian Haircuts
Well, after all the build… not a damn thing noteworthy happened at work today.
Not one phone call… but I’m sure the voicemail is jam packed with griping bitchery. There was a helluva storm in the greater metro area last night and it appears Comcast can’t get it together fast enough to get everything up and running again.
Phones by Comcast. Internetz by Comcast. So, I had a very productive day today not having to listen to people on the phone telling me why their homeowners dues are late and how they mailed their payment already and it must be lost somewhere since the post office just doesn’t give a crap and how the damn lawn care people haven’t come and trimmed their already well manicured shrubbery… So, tomorrow will be a scary day in management land, but today… today was pretty good.
Anyway, over the last weekend, I went to the beauty supply place and got a gallon of bleach and went to town doing my roots since God didn’t see fit to let my hair stay as blonde as it was when I was a young’n. I’ve been doing this routine for years. Color and trim my own hair. And for years and years, I was actually good at it.
Until this time.
First, I left the toxic goo on my mop way too long and frizzled the ends of it. So, it needed to be trimmed. So, I got the scissors and started to trim it. All was going well. Dead ends were flyin.
Then it happened…. I slipped.
No, not just a little gap. A full two inches of my fried locks fell to the floor. I stood there and tried to objectively assess the damage. But, there was no salvaging it. It had to be chopped off.
During this few minutes, I saw the last two years of growing this mess out, flash before my eyes. Two years of babying, pampering, trimming… all gone with one bad pass of the scissors. Dayum.
Now, I was starting to feel my neck turn red and my pulse in my neck was busting. I think I even felt my eye twitch.
As it turned out, I had to cut the sides so short (the back has always stayed short) that I look either like a really old lady with bad color or a short lesbian. I’m still trying to determine which… Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with any chick that digs the girl on girl relationship. I have lesbian family members and a variety of gay friends… so I’m totally not knocking anybody.
My problem with the lesbian scenario is that the cut isn’t saying I’m not a cute little lipstick lesbian. I don’t have cutsie poo poo Barbie hair anymore. Rather, due to the two toned stark contrast in color, I look butch. Big T has taken to calling me Butch as a pet name. He thinks all of this is freakin hilarious.
My boss, texted her gay hairdresser and begged him for an appointment. She told him she couldn’t take it anymore. She told him she stops in front of my office and laughs. Cold. Cold. Cold.
So, you see why I’m so upset over this whole hair thing.
Anyway, the hairdresser texts her back and I’m supposed to have my butt in his chair, on the clock, paid for by the company as a bonus treat. I suppose that could be considered silver lining… bonus hair cut and color done by a gay guy. If you’ve never had your locks fondled by a gay hairdresser, let me tell ya something… you have no idea what you’re missing.
Hopefully, this will solve all of my hair-do-don’ts.