Okay, so I'm petty. Small. Silly.
Five days ago, I got my hair cut and colored (I have that kind of hair that needs to be damaged to have any body...and I won't go back to the 80's during my poodlish perm phase). I told dear Gaspar that I wanted a change. (I later regretted those few short words). But, to my credit, I said, "Do whatever you want, but NO red. I don't like RED hair on me."
We had our usual conversation while he highlighted and colored and cut. When I put my head in the sink, I saw the dye run into the sink.
Hmmm, I thought, that looks awfully red. I calmed myself down by thinking Gaspar wouldn't color it red. It must be a coincidence.
He dried my hair, smiled, and handed me the mirror. The room was a bit dark so I did see a lot of red, but I figured something was just wrong with the lighting. He left. I ran upstairs to the upstairs bathroom and gasped. RED. Not red like a redhead, but candy apple RED. REDDDDDD!!!!! OHHHHHNNNNNOOOO! I almost started crying. Patrick came down. I hyperventilated (sort of.)
"It's red," I said.
"Yep," he said. "Maybe you should call Gaspar back."
I nodded. I took my red-headed self to my room and called him. It so turns out he had a little time between appointments and came right back. He covered it with brown, but the effect is not at all what I wanted.
Now I have brown, red, and blond hair in a terrible mismatch of dissonance. Really. I feel like a freak show, to quote my friend Jen, who uses words like that all the time.
I laid in bed fretting two nights ago. I'm in Lisbon for Christian Associate's leadership summit. I couldn't sleep. My mind went something like this:
I have RED hair. I look terrible. I'm ugly. How can I change this? What is wrong with me? I have a friend with cancer and I am concerned with something so superficial as HAIR! What a stuck-up person I am! How am I going to get my picture taken this week when I look so unlike myself? I want to crawl into a hole. Jesus, save me from my pettiness. There are starving children in Africa, for goodness sake, and here I am freaking out about my hair! Political trials aplenty accost this earth and I can't stop thinking about my hair.
I woke up the next day and watched with great insecurity each person's reaction to my RED hair. Guys looked puzzled, kept looking above my eyes to the hodgepodge of colors emanating from my head. (Now, to be honest, they probably weren't even looking, but because I was so self conscious, I thought they were). This RED hair thing has made me paranoid!
What's the point of this blog? Not much. No, I'm not posting a picture. I feel like I did when I got a perm in college that looked like a yappy dog who had placed it's furry paw in a light socket. I don't feel me. I don't feel happy. I don't feel pretty.
I know. I know. Jesus LOVES me. Even with RED hair. But right now, I'm just embarrassed and RED in the face and HAIR. I hope all you bloggites don't think I'm utterly superficial after reading this prose of generous verbosity...all about RED hair!
So, I need to get back to living. And realizing that my worth isn't based on my crazy hair or even my crazy, paranoid personality.
Five days ago, I got my hair cut and colored (I have that kind of hair that needs to be damaged to have any body...and I won't go back to the 80's during my poodlish perm phase). I told dear Gaspar that I wanted a change. (I later regretted those few short words). But, to my credit, I said, "Do whatever you want, but NO red. I don't like RED hair on me."
We had our usual conversation while he highlighted and colored and cut. When I put my head in the sink, I saw the dye run into the sink.
Hmmm, I thought, that looks awfully red. I calmed myself down by thinking Gaspar wouldn't color it red. It must be a coincidence.
He dried my hair, smiled, and handed me the mirror. The room was a bit dark so I did see a lot of red, but I figured something was just wrong with the lighting. He left. I ran upstairs to the upstairs bathroom and gasped. RED. Not red like a redhead, but candy apple RED. REDDDDDD!!!!! OHHHHHNNNNNOOOO! I almost started crying. Patrick came down. I hyperventilated (sort of.)
"It's red," I said.
"Yep," he said. "Maybe you should call Gaspar back."
I nodded. I took my red-headed self to my room and called him. It so turns out he had a little time between appointments and came right back. He covered it with brown, but the effect is not at all what I wanted.
Now I have brown, red, and blond hair in a terrible mismatch of dissonance. Really. I feel like a freak show, to quote my friend Jen, who uses words like that all the time.
I laid in bed fretting two nights ago. I'm in Lisbon for Christian Associate's leadership summit. I couldn't sleep. My mind went something like this:
I have RED hair. I look terrible. I'm ugly. How can I change this? What is wrong with me? I have a friend with cancer and I am concerned with something so superficial as HAIR! What a stuck-up person I am! How am I going to get my picture taken this week when I look so unlike myself? I want to crawl into a hole. Jesus, save me from my pettiness. There are starving children in Africa, for goodness sake, and here I am freaking out about my hair! Political trials aplenty accost this earth and I can't stop thinking about my hair.
I woke up the next day and watched with great insecurity each person's reaction to my RED hair. Guys looked puzzled, kept looking above my eyes to the hodgepodge of colors emanating from my head. (Now, to be honest, they probably weren't even looking, but because I was so self conscious, I thought they were). This RED hair thing has made me paranoid!
What's the point of this blog? Not much. No, I'm not posting a picture. I feel like I did when I got a perm in college that looked like a yappy dog who had placed it's furry paw in a light socket. I don't feel me. I don't feel happy. I don't feel pretty.
I know. I know. Jesus LOVES me. Even with RED hair. But right now, I'm just embarrassed and RED in the face and HAIR. I hope all you bloggites don't think I'm utterly superficial after reading this prose of generous verbosity...all about RED hair!
So, I need to get back to living. And realizing that my worth isn't based on my crazy hair or even my crazy, paranoid personality.
12 Comments:
I so know what you mean. I have had a morbid fear of hairdressers since a disasterous cut in 1990. What is it with hair dressers!!!! If you feel the need for a new stylist, I would highly recommend Valerie at Michel Lombardo's salon on on the corner of rue James Close in Antibes - near the Place National.
I also dare you to put a photo of yourself on the blog so that we can all tell you how beautiful you really are! I am sure it is not as bad as you think!
much love
melanie
Lucille Ball, Reba, Maureen O'Hara, Katherine Hepburn... You are in good company! And just think of all the writing fodder you'll get out of this.
Just remember, pretty is as pretty does!
Okay, so nothing anyone says will help, but know that your bloggy friends think you are fabulous no matter what color your hair is.
Well, I think that God thinks a LOT about hair . . . Sampson, for one. And the Bible often talks says something like, "not one strand of hair . . ." Yep, I believe that if God knows exactly the number of hairs on our heads all the time then He cares a lot abut our hair.
I have often prayed that God would give me a good hair day as I get ready, and you know what? He does!
And I prayed for my babies in my womb that they would have great hair, and you know what? They do!
That your hair would so emotionally move you I think is very normal and natural. To compare it to starving children is being harsh on yourself. Oh, God does care about the starving children, VERY much. But He also cares about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air. And I believe He cares about your hair . . . not because it changes His love for you, but because it hurts you.
If that had happened to me? I'd be in the same place you are . . . well, except I might have already bought a wig!
Gee Mary, I didn't notice you had red hair at all. You still look like the same old Mary to me. :)
So, what did Gaspar have to say for himself? Did something get lost in translation? Was eet hees leetle Fraunch treek on zee bloonde Americaine wooman?
When I lived in Paris, my hair stylist told me he was giving me a style known as "meche a' meche." I have since decided that phrase is French for "hack job". And I thought the French were on the cutting edge of style...???
One final thought for ya- a waitress once had a roommate that was a cosmetology student. The cosmetology student was always trying out new styles and colors on her waitressing friend's head. When the waitresses customers commented on her sometimes-outlandish looking "do's", she'd just explain about her roommate and say, "I'm her walking masterpiece!"
Oh, to have that perspective when the perm solution fries our ends, we get "Crayola Red" applied by mistake, and we go under the scissors of Monsieur Meche A' Meche!
For what it's worth, I bet it looks really COOOOOL!!! But what can I say, I'm a bald 80's retread...Ha Ha.
If anything else, i'm sure you look more and more French with ever strand of outstanding hair.
Think of it this way, someone will see you, see your hair and discover God's love as something new and different. What a testimony!!!
A few years ago, I learned the hard way that if your hairdresser complains that her day's been so busy that she hasn't had time to do her own hair--get out of that chair before you see the gleam of her scissors in you peripheral vision.
My hair was short at the time, she cut it shorter--even my husband knew it was crooked (and he doesn't notice things like that). When I went back and had the manager "fix" it--well, I'll never have my hair that short again, if I can help it.
So, I know how you feel--and it does ruin your day, week, month...:-(
You'll have to join my "Grey's Great" club--the last couple times I colored my hair I started reacting to the chemicals...so I've gone natural. :-)
Theme verse: Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life. Proverbs 16:31 NLT
So far, I haven't had any takers (maybe I need a catchier name), but I'm working on it. :-)
I'm sorry about your hair fiasco --though I'm sure it looks very cool and European. Sounds like great material for a novel character, non? All of us go through bad haircuts -- and I can't seem to get my natural color at all these days. It's either chocolate brown or orange -- I just want it to look like I haven't touched it!
Enjoyed your newsletter by the way. Very relevant. Very helpful.
Oh no Mary!!! I have cursed all Christian Associates Women! Kendall went through horrible hair too and told me it taught her a lesson because she had judged me for making such a big deal of my hair! Not that God is teaching anyone a lesson, but it just shows that hair is a big deal. It isn't like an ugly shirt we wear. We have to wear that hair every day! Don't worry though. After six months of dealing with the dreaded mullet, it is now gone FOREVER! I have almost normal hair now. That isn't too encouraging is it?
Yeah, I guess it's a good time for us to see that our acceptance isn't found in our hottie looks. Even if everything beautiful (outward) was taken away, you would still be Mary. That is what Hud told me. I like it.
I am sure you look like a hot freak show anyways! Love ya!
Mary, This post made me smile a huge goofy grin. Thank you for writing it. You are beautiful, and that's all there is to it!
Oh, you sound pretty normal to me, but I had to chuckle a time or two while I read your post :-)
I've always colored my own hair but once I left the Clairol on too long and looked like Elvira for a month. Everyday I washed my hair like crazy, praying it would fade-fade-fade!
I turned 50 recently, so it's more a matter of covering the aging gray now, than changing shades. Hoping I'll learn to age more gracefully.
Katy's right. You're beautiful--that's all that matters.
Mary, haven't heard from you in a few days. You do remember - that even if you don't get out of bed and go out and show your new hair style outside your door that I'm sure will set a new trend in France - that we can't see you out here in the blogging world... Some of us miss your posts! Since it's been awhile since I've seen a post from you, I just had to stop by and say, "Hey!"
Hi all you terrific blogger friends! I'm baaaack. I've gone through my hair grieving process (I'm on stage three), and have emerged from our leadership summit in Lisbon.
And, thankfully, I was still able to get my pro photo taken by my friend and photographer, Ro. So, I'll post a pic when he sends them to me.
I remember when Anne of Green Gables turned her hair green, and though she didn't use the word gimlet at the time, I remember her saying that word. I don't know what gimlet means, but I feel like one.
EEEEK.
Alas, i'm off for a sabbath hike. With my red hair and my friends Cyndi and Nancy...au revoir.
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