Okay, this really is a story about my hair. If you think it might bore you, bail now, or laugh at my expense. Your choice. Makes no difference to me. On Friday one of my best friends (one of, don't get mad-you know who you are) Rachel came to visit me from N.J. Besides being my friend she is also my hair stylist and was kind enough to come do my hair at my house. I let her do whatever she feels like doing. She told me she was going to make the front, where it is usually dark, more coppery. Fine. Whatever. So she puts the stuff on and when she rinses it out it is really red. Like Spiderwoman red. As an added bonus my skin is red too. So I go to take a shower. She comes up and sees it and goes, "Man, that never happens." Nice. That's what I want to hear. Meanwhile, Marc comes home. He tells me later that Rachel ran downstairs and said, "I really screwed up Amy's hair. She's pissed. Okay gimme a kiss." She came back up. There was nothing we could do to fix it then so she just dryed it and we went out.
The next morning I went to the gym. I saw my friend Dan who said, "I love your hair!" "You do?" I said. He goes, "Yeah, it's so bold. It says, I'm living."Okay, I love Dan but I have got to get rid of this hair. I am already the mom with the tattoo on the back of her neck and the son with the pierced ear. How different can I be?
The next day, Sunday, I go running outside. I had a hat on, when I get home under the hat my forehead is all red because the stupid dye has leaked. I call Rachel and tell her that I am coming down tonight. It has to be fixed.
Saige and I get down to Cherryhill at around 6. Rachel has to start by putting this stuff on my hair to get the red out. Her boyfriend du jour, who is also a stylist, a bald, one arm tattooed, nice as the day is long, stylist, but a stylist nontheless put it on for me. I actually watched my hair turn pink as it was on there. That was fun. Frank (the boyfriend) rinsed it out and Rachel put this other stuff on to get the red that had run through the blond part of my hair. This stuff was all over with foils and whatnot. So much that Zeus, Franks rottweiler , who had been my best buddy up until this point got scared and started barking at me. Another fun part. So that stuff sits on there for what seems like ever. Frank rinses it out. He is silent. I say, "Is all the pink out?" Silence. "Is all the pink out?" Silence. "Frank," I am shouting now. "Can you not hear me?"
Frank finally speaks, "Well, all the pink is gone but it's purple now." Okay, this has ceased being funny. I have tried to be quiet and patient because I know that Rachel is more upset than I am but come on. Purple? Really? Let me add in that the night before I was out until 2:30. I got up at 8 a.m. and ran a long time that day. Tired was an understatement, and it was sleet raining outside and my friggin' hair is purple. I was running short on patience. Frank was finding humor in it though which was annoying all of us. Add on to that, that Chase is calling me from his cell phone telling me he is worried about me. This was upsetting me because it is out of character for him but also Chase knows things. You know, before they happen sometimes, so I don't want to hear that. So finally at 10:30 after another round of crap on my head and some treatment that sat there forever it is over. I want to leave. Rachel insists she is drying it. I am sitting in her chair and I see scissors in her hand. I am like, "Rachel, what are you doing?" She says, "It needs to be trimed." "No!" I almost scream. "Please, let me go. Cut it another time. Dye it blue for all care but let me leave." She is visibly annoyed with me now, she wants to finish what she started, but with a huff she puts the scissors on the table and starts drying it. Halfway through my phone rings again, Chase, again. I say, "Okay, I'm out of here." I stand up. She is just staring at me in disbelief. I get my kid and leave. End of story. My hair does look good now though.