Herald and Journal Herald & Journal, Jan. 24, 2000

Hair we come again: in color

By ANDREA VARGO

Sometimes I just don't have enough to do.

That is not really true. But without a television to watch in the evenings, I occasionally do other things . . . like coloring my hair a different color.

Those of you who have met me on the street have been very nice. No one has dropped to the ground, rolling around with hysterical laughter.

Ok, it's red . . . very red. Perhaps a little more red than I anticipated.

Shirley Olson, our community coordinator, laughed so hard when she saw me walk into the teacher's lounge at the high school, she almost ruptured something.

So in self defense, I had to tell the hair story to take the attention off my radiant locks.

A wedding is not the place to make a hair statement.

My youngest son got married some time ago, when he and his wife were going through some unusual hair changes.

They both have long blonde hair. For some unknown reason, they decided to make a hair statement.

They each dyed a black streak through the blonde. Picture the lovely bride, beautiful dress, and a black streak. Not my favorite part of the look, but I can't complain too much, because of what I did.

I decided to cover some of my gray hair with a rinse before the wedding.

Walking into the store with my sunglasses on, I proceeded to pick out a color I thought would not be too offensive.

My sunglasses don't have bifocals in them, so I took them off to find the right color.

I placed them back on and reached into the row of bottles.

Never looked at the bottle again. I really should have, you know.

After my hair dried a nice brownish black, I looked. Too late. I went to the wedding only a few shades lighter than the wedding couple's black streaks.

There is some comfort in the fact that I wasn't the only one of our family with odd hair.

The oldest son, for some insane and probably genetic reason, decided to cut his hair shorter than usual and bleach it blonde. Kind of yellow, actually, and definitely not his color.

My mother, who regularly dyes her hair, has the unfortunate luck for it to turn bright lavender, if she gets in the sun. She did some gardening that week.

The middle son took the opportunity to cut his hair very very short, and that completed the family portrait.

Yes, this is the only time we have taken a family picture.

In the picture, my husband looks a little puzzled, as if he is wondering who all these people are. I am thankful he is colorblind.

Perhaps instead of coloring my hair, I will take up crossword puzzles for pastime, or maybe I'll just do the dishes on Sunday nights.


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