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Blond? Really? by Ken
My wife's been nagging at me to make a change regarding my hair. I'd not really made any changes in years. I ignored her, for the most part.
"Listen honey, I think a change would be good. Can you just think about it?"
"Honey, you're thinking about a big change. I'm not a big change kind of guy. I've liked this hairstyle, so I haven't changed it."
"Okay, what about color? Lots of guys change their color. I think that would be a good change."
"What's wrong with my brown hair?" I asked.
"Nothing, but for a change, a blond would be nice."
"Sure, I think it would look great. Wouldn't even have to change your haircut very much at all."
"Please. Darlene, who does my hair, she'll do it. She's very good. You haven't had any complaints about mine, have you?"
"No, of course not. Your hair is perfect."
"Good. Then you'll give it a try."
I knew she'd just keep at it so I finally said yes. Maybe a change in color would be nice. It's worth a try, anyway.
"Great, I made an appointment for Saturday morning at 9am. Light trim and a color."
I smiled. "Great. Can't wait," with a touch of sarcasm in my voice.
Saturday came and I found myself at the beauty salon that does my wife's hair. All the smells and such, not quite like a barbershop, to be sure.
"So, you're going blond?" Darlene asked.
"I guess so."
"What shade, have you decided?"
"Why don't we wait until you bleach it, then we can decide," my wife chimed in.
Darlene nodded. "Right,
"Bleach?" I asked.
"Yes, with dark hair, we have to bleach it first. Then we can color it. Otherwise the blond will look orange. Don't want that, do we."
I shook my head.
It wasn't long before she had the white paste mixed up and was applying to with a comb all through my hair. She combed and combed it in. Finally, she was finished and covered my head with a plastic bonnet.
"Well, this completes my bucket list," I said. "Sitting in a beauty salon with a plastic bonnet on my head."
Darlene smiled and my wife laughed. "Well, that's the price."
"How long do I have to pay this price," I asked.
"About an hour. Do you feel any burning?"
"Burning. No one said anything about burning."
"Do you," my wife asked.
"No. Some tingling, but nothing major."
"Good, make yourself comfortable and we'll be back." She set a timer and went to work on someone else. My wife announced she was going to look at shoes in the store next door. She said she'd be right back, but that's a relative term, she was looking at shoes, so she could be gone until tomorrow...maybe."
I a book and started reading. It was a great book about a CIA agent turned terrorist hunter. Engrossing that should have been made into a miniseries, at least.
Finally, I looked up and my wife was standing in front of me.
"You still have the bleach in," she said.
"The timer didn't go off yet."
"It's been almost an hour and a half." She called to Darlene and she came over.
"Uh, oh. Looks like the timer died. Sorry, I got so involved in rolling a perm."
She took the bonnet off an took me over to a sink. I leaned back and she started to rinse my hair with luke warm water.
"Well, is it white?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, it's white." She kept rinsing and working the bleach out of my hair. Then she paused and called my wife over. "We have a bit of a problem," she said.
My wife ran her hand over my head. "What happened."
"Well, it's not uncommon for there to be a little damage when bleaching."
"Yeah, but this?"
"I'm going to have to keep rinsing and see what we have."
"Okay, what's wrong?" I asked.
"Um, there's been some damage to your hair. I'll have to rinse all the bleach out before I can see how much damage there is."
"Is my hair white?"
"Oh, yeah, what there is of it."
My heart sank. I didn't like the sound of that.
She kept rinsing and to be honest, it didn't feel all that different from when I usually get my hair washed.
When she was done, she put a towel over my head and I sat up. She rubbed my hair with the towel. "Let me dry it first before you look at it. Okay?"
She ran the blow dryer over my hair for a few minutes with a light brush. "Okay, ready?" She spun the chair around so I could see the mirror. It didn't look like me. My hair, what was left, was snow white. The hair on the top was almost all gone. Just a few wispy hairs left. Then there was a fringe.
"What the hell," I said.
"I'm sorry," Darlene said, my wife was there and the look on her face said the same thing.
"What are we going to do," I asked.
"Well, we can't color it, I'm afraid of what might happen. I think just give it a trim, and see what happens."
"I think you're right," my wife said. "But you know what? I kind of like it?"
"So do I," Darlene said.
"What about what I think?"
"Wait until she's done, honey, just give it a try. Lemons out of lemonade, right?"
I shrugged. Darlene trimmed my hair, combed it, dried it more. When she was done I looked about 25 years older. White hair, balding, just a few hairs left on the top of my head.
She didn't charge me and we left. We went out to lunch and while I thought everyone would be staring at my head, they weren't.
I didn't know what to do, so when that happens, I just wait. I got up the next day and took a quick shower. I was toweling off when my wife walked in to the room.
"What did you do" she asked.
"I took a shower. Why?"
She rubbed the top of my head. "All those thin hairs that were on the top of your head, they're gone."
"What?" I looked in the mirror. She was right. All I had left was the white fringe. And even that seemed to be smaller than the day before. "You're right."
"Do you think it will all fall out?"
"You're asking me? How should I know."
"I'm sorry, though maybe it would be best if it was bald."
"Well, I'm not going to shave it, that's for sure."
"Yeah," my wife said, "let's just wait to see what happens."
By the end of the day, my white fringe was all of an inch and a half. The bald spot had gotten larger. The next morning, I got up and took a shower, wondering what I would find. When I got out of the shower, my wife was standing there. "In a hurry for your shower?"
"Just wondering what was going to happen." She kept staring at my head.
"Honey, you're bald."
I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror. She was right. I couldn't see any trace of hair. No stubble, just smooth white skin. I felt my scalp and couldn't feel anything. "Wow, that's smooth."
"Honey, I gotta say, I love it."
"Well, it looks so much better than the white hair, that's for sure."
"Just tell people you decided to give the bald look a try."
"How long before you think it'll take to grow back?" I asked.
"I don't know, but you should think about keeping it, that's for sure."
I had no intention of keeping it shaved, but I didn't have a choice. The hair showed no signs of growing back after 3 weeks. The only thing that seemed to grow were light hairs, very few of them. It's not what I wanted but I've accepted it. My wife is a lot less willing to suggest I make a change now. Though she did mention the other day if I've ever thought about getting a wig. She was just wondering out loud, is what she said. Well, that's a non starter, to be sure. I think.