Surviving the Pandemic

 

Just yesterday, my lovely wife said she could not take it anymore. We had to do something! I would have to do it. Me, with no training whatsoever, without proper ventilation nor experience in the safe use of toxic chemicals. I would have to color the roots of her hair.

I’d seen something like it done before. In fact, my wife did it – to me. I was to travel back east to interview for a GM position at a large liquor distributor (think of the free samples alone!) and my graying hair would just not do. I was competing with young, vibrant men. (What was I, chopped liver? What about experienced-based wisdom? It didn’t matter.) She and my two older daughters went to the Walgreens, and undoubtedly after much discussion and argument, selected a hair coloring product. In great anticipation and excitement, they proceeded to turn my hair a color I like to call, Bozo Orange. It was not the color shown in the picture on the box. Not even close.

Perhaps it works differently on men’s hair, a testosterone issue? That must be it. I’ll bet there is a caveat in the instructions, in print so tiny, it’s like reading license plates from space.

In fact, my new hair color was a color not even found in nature; it only exists in acrylic clown hair and on certain 1971 Volvo Station Wagons. And me.

They had to make another emergency visit to the Walgreens and I was ordered to stay home. If I went outside, a relatively colorless but jealous sun would likely send out a vaguely orange tendril of sun plasma to fry me to a cinder. But I did go outside, to pick up my youngest at a neighbor’s house. When my neighbor opened the front door, I saw her eyes take in my radiant new hair color. I can only describe her look as well, probably envy.

Little Hannah was less impressed. She asked what happened to my hair. I told her to never stick the blade of a knife in an electric plug. To my knowledge, and she turns 24 this year, she never has. Good lesson.

That entire incident reminded me of the time my mother, to save money, tried a similar experiment. I was about 12 or 13. After this home treatment, her hair turned a sickly green. She cried. When my father came home from work, she was wearing a kerchief which she refused to remove. She ordered my father to take her to the emergency room at the local hair salon. The owner, a friend and not my mother’s customary stylist, was said to be a top expert who’d performed many hair color saving emergencies. To correct the problem, she had to turn my mother’s hair (naturally ash blond) as black as Zorro’s cape. My mother cried again (but I digress.) My dad said he liked it. My mother smacked him.

By the way, my wife and two daughters were able to recolor my Bozo hair a more respectable dirt brown. The two treatments also burned the skin off the edges of my ears. They healed. And it was all for naught; I didn’t get the job. So someone must have seen through the ruse. The ear scabs probably gave it away.

Back to the current pandemic and my enlistment as a hair-colorer. The first problem was the Saran Wrap gloves, gloves meant to keep me from also dying the otherwise blond hair on my fingers. I could say that I have had similar problems with condoms, but I really haven’t. In any case, my big fat hands and fingers were not considered when designing these gloves. I managed, barely. Then, after mixing the active ingredients, beginning at the middle and working forward, I applied the coloring to the root area. The fumes were not overwhelming, only a minor buzz. I worked the remaining color into the rest of the hair. We waited for a half-hour. After a shampoo, rinse, and conditioning, my wife had brown hair with no discernable roots and our master shower was streaked with brown residue.

Success. Who’s next?

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  1. Jimmy Carter Member
    Jimmy Carter
    @JimmyCarter

    Do You know how to use shears? 

    • #1
  2. Percival Thatcher
    Percival
    @Percival

    This situation could turn in a heartbeat.

    My advice to you is to hide all sharp objects.

    • #2
  3. Gary McVey Contributor
    Gary McVey
    @GaryMcVey

    Nice to see a more lighthearted post on here for a change!

    • #3
  4. Doug Kimball Thatcher
    Doug Kimball
    @DougKimball

    Jimmy Carter (View Comment):

    Do You know how to use shears?

    I do.  In fact I now cut my own hair.  I use a #3 guard and do my head, eyebrows and beard at the same time.  I take off the guard and let my wife provide the appropriate separation of back/neck and head hair, kinda like a fire line.  

    • #4
  5. Locke On Member
    Locke On
    @LockeOn

    I think I’m going for the full mountain man look.  I already live in the Rocky Mountains, all I need is a muzzle-loader and a buckskin shirt and I’m in business.  I’m sure the local Fish & Game won’t mind.

    My wife used to dye her hair and once asked for help.  And, yeah, those poofy little rubber gloves were definitely not designed for someone 6’3″ with paws to match.

    • #5
  6. Full Size Tabby Member
    Full Size Tabby
    @FullSizeTabby

    Hair color on the kids (elementary and middle school) in the neighborhood has been interesting. The local school districts (north central Texas) have rules against “unnatural” hair colors.* But now that the kids are not going to school they are sprouting all sorts of colors. I’m seeing mostly pastels, so I wonder if the primary coloring agent is Jello (that’s what our daughter’s then boyfriend used when they were teenagers). Many are multi-colored.

    *We were surprised to discover this rule in Texas because where we lived previously (western New York state and southern California) the kids were always coloring their hair to very unnatural colors (green, blue, pink, etc.).

    • #6
  7. Aaron Miller Inactive
    Aaron Miller
    @AaronMiller

    A mexican friend of mine tried to dye his hair red once. A person with black hair needs to bleach it first, but he didn’t know that.

    As a result, his hair was uniquely iridescent. In cool lighting, it was still black. But in full sunlight shades of purple streaked and shifted as he moved. 

    • #7
  8. The Dowager Jojo Inactive
    The Dowager Jojo
    @TheDowagerJojo

    I started coloring my hair in my late thirties, when it seemed “prematurely” gray and my husband informed me he couldn’t pluck them all any more.  After a few years I remarked to a friend that I thought I would stop at about age 45.  My husband- not usually a man to give his opinion unasked- said:

    “No.”

    It was not a discussion. So I have kept on coloring my hair past 45 and past plausibility, because he likes it that way.

    Had to do it every six weeks, then every four, then every three as the roots became obvious more quickly.  When it got to be every two weeks, and I moved away from my hairdresser, I started to do it myself.  Then my husband took over and he does a great job, of course.  He does everything well.  And he is happy to do it, because he doesn’t want a gray haired wife.

    Tonight is salon night.  Eat your heart out, ladies.

    • #8
  9. Cal Lawton Inactive
    Cal Lawton
    @CalLawton

    I’ve wanted to try henna.

    • #9
  10. Basil Fawlty Member
    Basil Fawlty
    @BasilFawlty

    Doug Kimball: and our master shower was streaked with brown residue.

    Mistress shower.

    • #10
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