Tag Archives: Embarrassing

I Don’t Own My Hair

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IS IT GROWING OUT YET?

My sister and I have a pact:  We don’t make major changes to our hair without calling the other one first.

A couple of weeks ago I violated this pact.  I didn’t plan to or anything.  I just went in to get a trim on a haircut that I’d actually gotten a few compliments on.  But then, at the salon I saw a picture of (insert angels singing and harps strumming)   The Haircut of My Dreams.

Straight bangs across the forehead and straight bob.  It looked simple yet funky, exactly what a woman going through a mid-life crisis needed.

Now, I’m not stupid.  I mean, I did realize that the woman in the picture was probably a teenager and that her hair was shiny and red, but it was straight and one thing my hair has always been is straight.

The first time I married, I inherited a mother-in-law who owned a beauty parlor — not a salon but an old-fashioned beauty parlor.  Where women sporting pink curlers sat under dryers and came out flourishing bouffant hairdos that challenged gravity.   She considered my baby-fine, straight hair as a personal insult and tried everything in her arsenal.  And yet, week after week, the minute I walked out her door, it all fell into a stringy mess.  The closest she came to any kind of success was the year she put in a perm, had me wait an hour and then put in a second perm.  I rocked that 70’s afro for at least a week.

Now I was sitting in a comfortable chair, in a beautifully appointed hair salon imagining myself walking out the door with the hippest haircut.  I did ask Pamela if she thought I was too old for the cut and being the kind, yet honest person that she is, she said, “You could do it, you just have to OWN it.”

I told her to go for it and closed my eyes, imagining when I opened them, I’d own my hair like this woman.

Owning your look.

It didn’t happen.  Because, evidently – I don’t own my hair.  Well…and also because I’m not twenty…and I have wrinkles…and I don’t walk around wearing bright red lipstick all the time.

In Pamela’s defense, I’d begged for this haircut and, being the professional that she is, she let me come back a week later so she could undo what I couldn’t own. (Free of charge I might add – go see her at Alquemie Salon.)

I tried whining to my sister but she reminded me that, “that’s what a pact is for.”

Will I learn from this embarrassing mistake?  I doubt it.  I was going through some of my mother’s old journals and came across this entry – “Teresa arrived with another of her crazy haircuts.  I couldn’t say anything nice so just kept quiet.”

Hmmm, now that I think about it, everyone has been very quiet around me lately.

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Thanks for coming to Crazie Town.  I appreciate all the tourists who visit and especially all the people who invested in a time share opportunity (i.e. subscribers).

Talk to you next week!

Anatomy of an Aunt

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I recently committed to visiting my Aunt Betty Lou every other week in her nursing home.  Wait, before you oooh and aaah over how sweet that is, I have an ulterior motive — I always come back with a great story for Crazie Town.  This visit was no exception.

When I arrived I found her in the dining room – by herself – waiting for supper.  It was 3:00 in the afternoon.  I said hello.

“OH!  I’m so glad to see you!”  She smiled and clapped her hands together.

“Me too,” I said.

“Now, remind me who you are again?”  Fortunately the smile remained on her face even after we cleared that up.

It was a beautiful day so I asked if she wanted to go for a walk.

Her eyes got wide and she said, “Are you crazy?”

Once I explained that I’d be doing the walking and that she’d be riding in her wheelchair, she decided it was a splendid idea.  I pushed her through the nearest exit, which sounded the alarm.

She said “Keep moving!”  So I did.

A few years ago, the nursing home installed a gazebo and “pond.”  (Being a farm girl, I have to put that in quotes as a pond is something four times as large, but I digress.)  We rolled out to the gazebo and I set the locks on her wheels.

We sat in silence for several minutes while I struggled to find something to talk about.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I asked.

“The other day the tree trimmers came.”    (I’ve learned over the years that although we’re having one conversation she reserves the right to switch it to a new subject at any time.)

“Tree trimmers, you say?” I asked politely.

“Yes, they worked all day, cutting down limbs.”  She gazed around at the trees and smiled.  “And then the next morning when I woke up, the nurses had covered me in tree limbs.”

“Uh huh…wait, what did you say?”

“Yep.  Tree limbs.  They thought it would be funny.”

A million thoughts zoomed through my head.  “Would someone really think that would be funny?  Did it actually happen or was she confused?  If it was true, was my aunt some sort of favorite patient that they joked with?”  But she was already on to the next conversation.

“One time at work a woman came in asked for her check.”

Aunt Betty Lou worked for about 100 years at the Topeka City Clerk’s office.  I really had no idea what her job entailed so I answered, “That’s nice.”

She screwed up her face.  “We don’t give people checks at the City Clerk’s office!”

“Oh.  Well, I guess she was in the wrong place then.”

“I told her I didn’t have any check for her and she said I did.  I told her I didn’t and she said if I didn’t give her the check she was going to cut out my gizzard.  Right away my supervisor called the mayor’s office, who sent down his guard.  And then guess what happened?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“Well, all I can say is – she doesn’t have her check, and…”Aunt Betty Lou leaned back in her wheelchair and patted her stomach.  “…and I still have my gizzard.”

Now, I’m no doctor so when I got home I looked up to see where a person’s gizzard is exactly.  Turns out, only birds have gizzards.  Then again, maybe Aunt Betty Lou is part bird and she really did wake up in the tree limbs.

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I don’t want to threaten you or anything, but if you don’t give me a subscribe or share, or a “LIKE” I might have to cut out your gizzard.

Oh yeah, thanks for visiting Crazie Town!