Let's Hair It For Great Dye Jobs

Well, yesterday was a big day for me. It got my first haircut in a year. I felt like a toddler sitting in the chair for the first time. I was nervous, excited and hoping I wouldn't leave with helmet hair. Or worse, with much less hair than I arrived.

I started chemo in April 2010 and finished in July. Six treatments, three weeks apart. I decided if I had to wear a wig, I was going to have some fun with it. So I purchased (or insurance purchased) a nice, handmade dark blond wig styled like Jennifer Aniston's luscious locks. And yes, blonds do get more attention!

So, I called my hairdresser Casey for an appointment and much to my shock, all I heard was the sound of a recording, "I'm sorry, but the number you dialed is no longer a working number." What? How could that be? I know my life changed in a year, but you mean life for others moved on too? So, I redialed. And redialed. And redialed. The recording gave me the same monotone response.

Next to my oncologist and GYN/OB,Casey was the third most important professional in my life. She's gotten me out of really bad self-dye jobs, evened-out sloppy home trimmings, and kept me from looking too much like a mom. Plus, she had good gossip. I could catch up on friends, acquaintances and their families from her leather chair.

So, I had to solve this problem. Can't trust just anyone with my baby soft hair with tiny ringlets. My husband suggested one of those shopping center chop places. Thanks for your opinion honey, but no. Obviously, I couldn't trust a man with this problem.

My neighbor Dawn came to the rescue. She just had her hair done with lovely blond highlights. So I called BJ at Duvalls in Bedford.

Since my husband flew in this week, he dropped me off and even ran to the Bedford library for pay for a book I borrowed and lost from a friend. I told him it would take probably about two hours. He looked at me, blinked and said, "Two hours? You don't have that much hair." Again, thanks for the opinion honey.

I walked in and was filled with memories of going with my mom to her salon when I was a kid. Lots of loud, funny and generally older women. They looked upon me as their pet project. I was ushered, bossed and led around just like when I was with mom.

I told BJ my sad little story and begged her not to chop too much off. Plus, put in some highlights. She asked, "Was your hair always this curly?" Never. But the doctor told me it usually goes away. "Not to contradict your doctor, but I've never seen the curl go away." This got me excited.

Next, I saw the hair washing lady whose name escapes. She was bantering back and forth with the towel lady. "I'm so sweet, people should call me 'chocolate," she told me. The towel lady snorted, said something I couldn't understand, and then, horror, they asked my opinion. As I said a while ago, my mom sent me to charm school for just this situation. I smiled, giggled and said, "Oh my."

Then 'Chocolate' said to me, "Miss D, scoot up and get your head back in the bowl." Without meaning to, I was sliding down in the chair with my head up, staring at an older lady sitting across from me getting her whole face and neck waxed. Is that my future?

I got my lowlights, highlights and texture cut. My hair smelled great and no grays! Plus, BJ told me that my hair will grow about 1/2- to 1-inch each month since my follicles have totally regenerated.

As I went to the front, my husband patiently was waiting in the lobby. He loved the results. Then he asked the question all men should know better than to do. "How much did they charge?" Quickly, thoughts raced through my mind. Should I lie? Should I distort the truth a little? Should I come clean? I opted for the truth. "Well, $100," I said. He couldn't believe it. I didn't tell him that it didn't include tips for BJ and Chocolate. It was more information than he needed to know.

As we walked out, he informed me the Bedford library had no record of my friend or the lost book I sent him to repay. "Are you sure?" he asked. Of course, I'm always right.

This morning, my honey came in and said he still liked my hair. Then, he looked at me and said, "By the way, the book is from the Burleson library, not the Bedford library."

He was so smug. Wondering how he got so smart.

First haircut in a year with highlights and lowlights.

The Wondering Texan