Comment: Follicular Fantasy

I just had an experience I probably won’t have again for a long time. I got my hair done at a place far above my means, mainly because it’s in the building where my family and I are staying, and because one of the building’s residents told me I’d love it.

Was she right? Absofreakinlutely.

I got highlights, a cut, and a glass of wine. I was pampered and coddled and left alone to read tawdry magazines. And then when I arrived home (down the hall) with my new look, it was all my husband could do to not jump my bones right then and there.

This is why women spend a fortune on their hair.

I get it now.

It’s not like I’ve never had my hair professionally colored, or cut by someone who charges an arm and a leg, but this is by far the swankiest place I’ve ever been to. And the bill was a glaring reflection of that swank factor.

Given that we’re sending our kids to private school and buying a house, I’m guessing my day at the fab salon will remain in the singular. Not likely to be budgeting for THAT for awhile.

And what’s happened is I’ve got myself a high maintenance hair color situation. It looks great now, but in a few more weeks, it’ll be rooty mcrootfest and I’ll have to figure out how to smooth the transition as my natural hair color slowly takes over.

Luckily, my hair is short; on the negative side, that means more frequent cuts; on the up side, even if I get a hack job, it grows in fast. It’s the color thing that’s my challenge. I’m no stranger to home hair coloring, but my hair color is really complicated. It’s red, and blonde, and lionesque. How many freakin’ caps and pokey sticks am I going to need to even remotely attempt to replicate (as opposed to destroy) the funky look I got at Salon Swank? I need a Fine Art major, stat.

Ah well. I’m good at improvising, and I’m good at making random things work, so I guess it’s back to reality, back to the drugstore for Clairol.

But it was fun while it lasted. Maybe when I get a job, I can go back and see my one-time fling stylist; he’ll be waiting for me, glass of wine in hand and foils at the ready.

A girl can dream.