Platinum Blonde

Two days before my 40th birthday I dyed my hair bright red. I lived in Portland at the time, and flew to Denver for a lovely party my friend Martha was hosting for me. I hadn't seen my Denver friends for almost a year. You know how when you make a major change in your appearance, it's the first thing people comment on when they see you? You know how they ooh and aah and fuss over you? That's only if it looks good. No one said anything. Not a word. Finally, I turned to one of my friends and graciously implored "Would you please say something about my *ucking hair??!" The best she could manage was "Oh...well, I guess I just need to get used to it."

Ok then, no more bright red.

Let's try copper. Let's try copper and wear a mauve twin set while on major network TV (a Portland station was running a feature story on the singles group I'd started). Copper and mauve. Very, very bad idea. Even without the mauve.
Next.

Ok, maybe something a little closer to home is the key. Blonde. But golden
blonde. And new makeup to go with it! I don't fully trust the Clinque salesgirl's choice of bright coral, but hey! I'm sure it looks better than I think! I just have to get used to it! That night I was cohosting an event with little southern belle Patsy (see the Ted Nugent Style of Home Decorating post). She took one look at me and a look of great distress came over her face. The kind of great distress expression most people reserve for seeing someone who's just been shot. "Windy" she hissed "That is the wrong shade of lipstick on yew. Yew go take that off raht now."
Do you think I said "Thank you very much for the excellent suggestion Patsy. I'll go do that right away." If you guessed 'Yes' you don't know me very well. After a few choice words the orangey smear on my lips stayed on. It was, however, never reapplied.

Actually with a few adjustments the golden blonde wasn't that bad. Light brown was pretty nice too. Dark brown? Won't be going back to that anytime soon.

For the past few years I've stuck with the tried and true- highlights. In Sweden I decided my hair needed some perking up, so I bought a highlighting kit. Thankfully the directions were not just in Swedish. They were also in German. Oh well, I've done my own highlights before, no problem. And yes, they came out well. A lighter blonde than I'd ever had but it looked good. Did Peter notice? No. Did he notice my zig-zag bangs the time I'd trimmed them with toenail clippers? (I was stuck in a minimally stocked cabin in Ugglarp, Sweden. What else was I supposed to use? A knife?) Yes.

My point of this whole bimbo-esque post? At 1:30 this afternoon I announced to my mananger that I was taking two hours off to have my hair done. "Investing in my professional image" I supplied. I went to the salon across the street and told the stylist I wanted cool blonde highlights. Really light. Platinum. And that's what I got.

When I got back to work, my whole team was in a meeting in the room next door. I walked in, planning to scurry to the nearest available seat when a very loud collective "Whooooo!" of admiration went up from the group, followed by an equally loud round of applause and lots of "Wow, it looks great!" type compliments. Never one to accept a compliment graciously I blurted out " I think I look like Edgar Winter!". Only about four people on my team are old enough to remember the albino leader of the Edgar Winter band, but never mind. When questioned why I didn't like it, I said I need to get used to it. I think I'm liking it though.

Within a few weeks I'll post a picture. I'm dieting. God help me.

Will this insipid post ever end?

Yes.