guilty of being ...

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Thursday, March 30, 2006

Retro Pooks

So it's not enough that I'm going retro with index cards, with a paper planner, with fountain pens.

Oh no, that was in no way retro enough.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started when I walked into the salon.

No, wait, it started before then.

It started when my mommy and daddy did "what mommys and daddys do" and sperm and egg did what they do and DNA started weaving its magic spell and I ended up with fine, straight hair.

In case I didn't state my case strongly enough -- FINE (not as in "okay," but as in spiderweb), STRAIGHT (not as in "straight, glossy" but as in limp, flat) hair.

Fast forward through years of tears and tangles, perms and mousses and gels, to where I finally ended up, with a bob that is supposed to turn under like Louise Brooks...

And instead usually looked like limp, straight ... I don't know, just bad hair. (Sorry, no pictures of that.)

Okay, back to where it all started the other day when I walked into the salon.

I told Thu that I needed to shake things up a little. Do something different -- maybe even try my natural hair color (which she vetoed, ha! I told you my DNA gypped me in the hair department) or something new in the style (I looked at some pictures and fearfully pointed to a feathery one and said, "Will my hair do this or will it just limp?) and confidently said, "I'll fix you."

I came out with my hair more auburn than red, which is fun for a change. I came out with a cute layeredy, feathery, sorta hair that is quasi-Louise Brooks but different.

And I like it!

So, you're wondering, is it retro hair she's talking about? What is so extreme it is worthy of a blog entry? (Not that cute hair isn't, but really, I mean.)

As she's blowing my hair dry with a bit of mousse, she's got three round hairbrushes (maybe more, I lost track and couldn't see the back of my head, anyway) and she'd blow, wrap hair, leave the brush in my hair and move to the next spot. Chatting away. I'm watching, wondering how many hairbrushes I'm going to have to buy and how I'm going to do this, and she says, "When you do this, you probably want to use curlers."

Um, wait. What was that again?

"Curlers. Just get big ones, leave them in for a few minutes, when the mousse is dry...."

Houston, we have a problem.

While my hair is fine and straight, there is also a lot of it. A LOT. Like, when I used to get those 80s perms, my hair would blow up like Bozo. This means, there are 30 gazillion fine little hairs trapping moisture together and it takes for-freaking-ever to dry.

So after going to the store and buying curlers (yikes!), I sat for "a few minutes" then touched the curlers and realized, that hair is nowhere near dry. I waited longer, and no progress.

I finally took them out one at a time and one at a time blew it almost dry then rolled it back up to finish. A half hour later? Still sticky with mousse.

People, when I start wondering how much a hairdryer costs -- not a handheld, but a truly retro hairdryer costs, it is time for somebody to bitch-slap me and force me to step slowly away from the styling products.

Please. Before someone gets hurt.

2 Comments:

At 11:11 PM, Blogger Candace said...

Your hair looks MAHVelous, dahlink!

 
At 8:38 PM, Blogger pooks said...

Not quite as MAHVelous today, dahlink! I didn't spend long enough fixing it. But it's still kind of cute!

 

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