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Posts Tagged ‘hair’

Hair

For years I have needed to dye my hair every three to four weeks. I use the box dye that I put in my hair myself. The salon is too expensive and they often don’t get it right. About four years ago, I went in on Senior Discount Day and got my hair cut and colored. I had taken a picture of what I wanted it to look similar to. The haircut was wrong and the color she gave me was not the deep brown with a touch of red. Instead, it was all red…like not hair red but crayon red! I had to cover it up when I went back the next day so they could fix it. Then three years ago I treated myself to a haircut and color treatment for my birthday (which is also Christmas and I wanted it to look nice when the family was together). It turned out great. I was quite pleased until she gave me the bill to pay. It wasn’t the price she had quoted. It was more than twice the price. I almost passed out right there in the mall. So no more salon jobs for me. I buy a box of color for $6 to $10, depending on whether it is on sale or not.

However, because money has been so scarce (and continues to be) I haven’t colored my hair since before Thanksgiving. It is now about fifty percent gray. It makes me look about ten years older than without the gray. At least ten years older. I almost didn’t care because this was also a time when I was depressed and just didn’t care what my hair looked like or what age I looked like. Then I started to feel better when my diabetes started to get better (the wonders of medication!) and all the gray started to bother me. I wanted to look my best. I have been really busy with doctor appointments and trips to the lab for tests, to the hospital, to the pharmacy, and all of those other busy-making things so I had not had the chance to dye it. It kept getting more and more gray and I kept noticing it more and more.

Then I got my diagnosis and although I’ve not been to the oncologist yet, I know it’s not going to be a walk in the park. The biopsy, while I don’t have results yet, showed that the tumor is not only in my gall bladder but in my liver, as well. So if we come up with a treatment plan, it’s not going to be fun.

That’s when I decided to dye my hair. I was not going to wait another minute. I went to the closet where I keep extra boxes of hair dye when I get them on sale. I didn’t have any. There was one box of black that I bought for my sister but black is too severe for me so I couldn’t find any dye in the house. Finally, I found a box I had bought at the Dollar Tree. Yup, hair dye for a dollar. I was reluctant to use it because it was a no name brand with poor spelling on the outside of the box and it was old. But I figured, what the heck. So that’s what I have in my hair now. And it isn’t bad. I didn’t get all the gray but that’s okay. It looks more natural that way.

Now I want a haircut but I’m thinking I might want to leave it long for as long as I can because it might not be too long from now that I won’t have any at all. So that’s the inner debate right now. Of course, I have no money for a haircut and I won’t do it myself, so that will probably be the deciding factor in the endless hair decisions.

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When I was over at my daughter’s a couple of weeks ago, there was a huge fighting, crying scene because the little one wanted the scissors and wasn’t allowed to use them and there were no kid scissors. So as I was putting together their Advent Calendar, which this year took the form of a “grab bag”where they could choose a wrapped gift from a Christmas bucket, I remembered this and picked up two kid ambidextrous (Anderson is a lefty) scissors for the bucket.

I heard from my daughter that they were a big hit then two days later, I got this picture by text from her:

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Yup, they cut each other’s hair!

#WeeklySmile is a blog link up hosted by Trent. Come by and share a smile or two with us.

 

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Blogging From A to Z

I remember sitting for hours and hours as my mother untangled my hair every couple of days. There were four of us girls and she would line us up and we would take turns coming and sitting on our knees between my mom’s legs as she brushed out all of the tangles. Then when she finished, she would start again only this time it was putting our hair in curlers. She used to use large pink rollers for where our hair should have large curls then little ones for the smaller curls and finally pin curls (using bobby pins) for the tiny curls around our faces. We always had long hair and it took hours to take care of it but it was important to our mom that our hair be just right so she spent long hours making sure it looked perfect.

One summer she put a Lilt home permanent in my hair because my hair was very fine and would not hold the curl for very long so she permed it. I remember the chemical smell of the product and how important my mom said it was to get the time perfect or my hair would burn. I didn’t want my hair to burn and I sat obediently, not making a sound or moving a finger, so that my hair would not burn.

I think that’s what taught me to always have long hair. That’s the way I was raised. It was ladylike to have long hair, not short hair. In fact, all four of us sisters still have long, long hair, even though we are all in our late 50’s. That’s just the way we grew up.

I think too that the importance of women having long hair is one of the reasons my mom took it really hard when she had to have chemo therapy last year. She dreaded losing her hair but she knew it was coming. When it did, she refused to leave the house. Even though I had bought her a number of pretty scarves and hats to cover up her baldness, she would not go out except to doctor appointments. She wanted a wig but she wanted it to look like her own hair because if it didn’t, people might think she was bald! Go figure! I offered to buy her a wig online and have it delivered to her but she was afraid it would not be right and then she would feel bad about returning a gift and she’d keep it. So finally, I was able to go visit her. I had been going down to see her every couple of months but had not been there since before she lost her hair. When I got there, I made it a priority to take her to the next town over (well, a few towns over; it took an hour to get there) to a shop I had found online and I had her fitted for a wig. She finally found one that she liked and the woman who worked there was wonderfully patient with her until my mom was happy with what she had found. She was like a new woman with that wig! She was ready to go shopping and out to eat wearing her new wig!

I guess for us, maybe we’re like Samson. Our strength is in our hair. We keep it long to keep our strength. It doesn’t matter if it is almost completely gray. It’s the length that holds the key to our ladylike ways…to our strength.

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Hair

When I turned 40 in December of 1995, my oldest daughter started telling me that I should cut my hair because I was too old for long hair.  I didn’t like the idea of short hair.  I’ve always had long hair.  Almost always, that is.   For a short while, during my second year in college, I cut my hair short and had it in an Afro.  That was about as daring as I got.  I let it grow out for a long time then cut it short again, although not as short, when I was a very young mother of two.  Short hair was so much easier and quicker to handle so I did it for convenience, but I haven’t ever liked short hair (except the Afro was kinda cool and it was the 70’s).

Now, all these years later, my hair has been on my mind.  I feel it’s time for a change but what change should that be?  I’ve thought of letting it go gray.  I have to dye it about every four to five weeks or it’s way, way, gray.  However, because my hair is naturally so dark (just this side of black) that letting it go gray will put it in a very awkward condition until it goes completely gray…I’m guessing months and months to let it go sufficiently gray.  That’s too long to have it in limbo.

Recently, I wondered if maybe cutting it short and letting it go gray would be easier because the short hair will turn gray much quicker than the long hair.  Or at least that’s what I was thinking.  I decided to go down to the salon where I have gone for hair cuts (really just a trim) since I moved here four years ago.  They have a senior discount day on Tuesdays so it’s much cheaper.  I’ve had my hair colored there before, too.   This time, the girl that has done it previously was not in but the manager was there and I showed her the picture I had found with short but not too short hair and told her the color I wanted.  She seemed to understand and I knew she was the person that everyone there called with questions about hair color when they couldn’t figure it out so I figured it would be okay.

Then she started cutting my hair.  She was fast.  Very fast.  Before I knew it (like in less than a minute) my hair was about three inches shorter than I had asked her to leave it and it was wet which meant that when it dried, it would be shorter.  Ouch.  I told her it was short enough.  Don’t take any more off.  Then came the coloring.  She turned my chair away from the mirror so I never saw what she was doing.  When she had finished and combed it out and dried it and styled it, the color was not right.  The lighting was bad in there too so it was hard to tell.  She told me she would re-do it for me at no charge if I didn’t like it after a few days.  I walked out of there and to my car and on the way home, the sun came out and I could tell in the rear view mirror that the color was awful.  Awful.  A.W.F.U.L.  It was a very light brown with a kind of pink tint to it.  Horrible.  Hideous.  Barf-inspiring.

Not only did my daughter look at me funny but my grandson wouldn’t go anywhere near me that afternoon.  Even when I talked to him it didn’t seem to register that it was me.  He stayed away from me that day.  I was so upset I didn’t want to be seen in public with my hair that color.

I was the first one at the salon when they opened the next day and within minutes she was working on my hair again.  She dyed it again and got it the right color and she fixed the hairdo so that it wasn’t all one short length.  I had her layer it so it had some kind of shape and style to it.  I left there much happier. 

I know it will grow out; maybe not as soon as I would like but it will grow out.  As far as the color, I think I’ll keep dying it.  I’m not ready to go through the drama and stress of all this hair business yet.  Not yet.  Not quite yet.

So much for listening to my daughter, who by the way, now says I should keep my hair long even if I’m too old for long hair.

 

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