Dying at Home
I have seasonal hair. It has been every color. Anything red is usually good. Even blonde was okay (will never bleach eyebrows again). My least favorite was the burgundy and pewter catastrophe circa 2001.
Porter, who used to do my hair, eloped with his lover a few months ago. They now live in Alabama. I know that I should hope that they are happy together, but a little part of me hopes that they break up so that Porter will move back here and do my hair again. I suppose, I could move to Alabama, but I really enjoy the convenience of electricity. I give them a year. He'll be back. Until then, I am doing it at home. I can't trust these curls to just anyone.
I bought a box of multi-faceted hair color. The directions recommended clean, dry hair. My hair was a little damp. I dried it upside down for a few minutes. When I stood up, my once bouncy curls stood out two feet from my head in every direction. I snarled like a model in the mirror. "Fierce," I could hear Tyra saying in my head.
This was going to be more than I could handle. I looked around for my phone. Due to my restricted peripheral vision I bumped into several walls and the bookshelf before finding it. Unable to get the phone directly to my ear through all my hair, I sent a text message for help.
Mist: 2ft afro. plz help. bring wine.
Mist: deepest mocha praline
G: red or white idiot
Mist: red. hurry.
It was over in a few hours. In the morning, I found bleach in the freezer, the bathroom looked like we chopped up a body, and my hair...nothing a yarmulke can't hide.
I may be moving to Alabama after all.