Thursday, April 22, 2010

Never Underestimate the Power of a Good Dye Job

My previous post should explain my long absence from blogging. But I'm getting settled in a new "permanent" home now, my computer is enjoying a better firewall and the huge advance from dial-up to DSL. Woo-hoo!

I'm back, baby! But it took a bit more than an address change to get me here....

After a short stint as a coppery-blonde to play the role of "Margy" in our community theater's production of Rodgers and Hammerstein's State Fair I've finally got my real hair back. Well, what constitutes as my "real hair", anyway! I have my razor cut, my almost-funky striped low and highlights, and my flat iron and hair goo are once again receiving daily attention.

Who knew that something as wacky as a hair style could affect my mojo so much? When I let my razored layers grow out and went copper-penny blonde for "Margy" the bleach must have somehow taken the color out of my soul as well as my hair. Some random chemical reaction must have happened to make me feel insecure and entirely frumptastic. ("tastic", of course, being my personal suffix of choice at the moment; and, since I am a writer I am at liberty to make up words at will. I'm sure I'll move on soon to some other thing, but since I've been over-using the word "ginormous" I had to come up with something fresh. This too shall pass.)

My lifeless reflection hearkened my hair back to the days of being a new mom, when showers were a hit or miss part of the day and make-up?--faggeddaboutit! So even though I was getting up in the morning, going through the whole shower/makeup/hairstyle routine, dressing professionally, and heading off to the bank to fulfill my role as a Financial Services Representative, I still felt, well... frumpy. My creative juices fizzled, my writing slugged. It was depressing. I don't like to think of myself as vain, but dang. Something had to be done! Two days after our final performance of State Fair, I called my stylist (aka: The Magician) so sweet, innocent little "Margy" could DIE! and the rrrrrrrrr could get dyed back into S.R. Van Ness.

Thanks to Lana, my stylist/colorist/magician, I'm back, baby. And I'm digging in hard. I'm posting this puppy and then I'm opening up those first 130 pages of my supernatural-thriller-in-progress and seeing if I can make it to 140 pgs before the kiddos get home from school.

It's amazing what a girl can do when she's got the right hair.

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