The Miss.Clairol Incident

It began as all things begin, as a good idea.

A good idea like, "Hey! Let's buy this 80 year old house with all of the charm and then spend the next four years cursing it because of it's lack of closet space and no dishwasher." or "I know! Let's paint the dining room blood red!"

Where was I?

Oh, yes. Miss.Clairol.

Since moving to North Carolina I have really given up the ghost about the boys' hair. The majority of the boys down here have the surfer haircut. You've all seen it, the long shag. My one rule is, I have to be able to see their eyes and it has to be clean. So far, they have had no trouble abiding by my rules.

John has my hair color which is brown but with red highlights usually brought out by the sun. I have taken to highlighting my hair a pretty light blond simply because of all of the gray hair that has begun to rapidly take over my head. Evil little hairs, those gray's.

Jeremy has my basic brown hair color but the sun makes his hair more of a golden blond and he really has the complete surfer look.

Lest you think that I am just giving you a boredom inducing dissertation on our hair color, I need to tell you that I do have a point.

John does not like his hair color. He laments, daily, on how tortured and pointless his life is as a brunette. O.K. I exaggerate slightly but in his world, it's a big deal. He has been asking me to make his hair blond and I keep telling him that the sun will make his hair lighter. He is not happy with the sun because it is not doing its job to his satisfaction.

This past Sunday afternoon, I gave in. I told him that we could lighten his hair. We went to Wal-Mart and bought the stuff that washes out in 10 washes. I thought this would be a good start. Turns out, you get what you pay for. You buy 5 dollar hair color, you get a 5 dollar hair color job. It didn't wash out in ten washes, it washed out and washed down the drain along with my cinco dollars.

We went back to the store and got Miss.Clairol:Born Blond. We headed back home to let Miss.C. do her thing. She didn't exactly do her thing because John didn't look like he was born blond, he looked like he was born Ronald McDonald.

The Clairol people? They know that this will happen, that's why they have a Clairol Hotline. The message you hear when you call the Clairol Hotline on Sunday, the one day that they are closed is, "We're sorry that you look like a clown that has lost their circus. We will be happy to assist you tomorrow when we re-open. In the meantime, learn to juggle fire sticks or master the lost art of unicycle riding to enhance your clown earning potential."

I called first thing Monday morning and they told me how to "tone down" the color. We went back to the store, bought the color that they told us to buy, went home and colored John's hair yet again.

The "toning down" you ask. Mmmmm, nope. No toning down.

I called my salon, specifically, Francois, the Miracle Worker. They are closed on Monday.

Totally figures.

Francois called me on Tuesday and because he is wonderful, he squeezed us into his busy schedule. He even charged me half price to fix John's hair.

And now, without further ado, I give you...


Blondie!

He does look really cute but if you ever hear me mention the words, Miss, Clairol, John, hair, color or blonde, please hit me. Hard. With something heavy.

Look to the finish!