Bad Hair Day

I consider every day a bad hair day. When the rare opportunity arises to see my stylist, I’m there like a greedy bitch. This is a story of that one day…That morning I had gone in to my hair stylist for a ‘root and scoop.’  This is  laymen’s term for ‘get that fucking grey out of my hair, stat.’

Ideally, after an hour or so, you wash it out at home.  I had told my stylist I was going to stop by my daughter’s school on the way home.  She told me I was going NO WHERE other than straight home to wash it out, unless I wanted child services showing up.

Like many moms, things come up. My list of errands began to grow exponentially as I sat in the chair at the salon while the stylist worked her magic.

My husband called and pretty please begged me to pick up some bike parts at his cycling shop. I was happy to do it because conveniently enough, my favorite coffeehouse is right next door.

I drove over to the shop, then sat down for coffee and since I was in that part of town, hit up my favorite feed store for chicken grain. I noticed everyone was really friendly and seemed more than willing to help me out. I even got a compliment and extra whipped cream on my mocha. Apparently my Bob Marley T Shirt from Goodwill had quite an effect on people. One gal I noticed, spoke very slowly and enunciated her words carefully. I wondered if she thought I was hearing impaired.

I stopped over at the grocery, the pharmacy for drugs and then was shocked to find it was time to pick up my daughter from school. I careened into the school lot while bumpin’ to Ed Sheeran’s song, “Sing,” feeling like a hip mom with my choice of music.

My daughter came out, got in the car and took one look at me, then another. This was new. Normally she doesn’t even glance my way when she gets in.

“Mom! What the heck?”

As always, I’m one log short of a cord so I asked, “What?” confused as to why she was even talking to me.

“YOUR HAIR!”

Wow, thanks a lot.

I flipped down the visor mirror and was shocked to find someone who resembled a Medusa- like character staring back at me. A gloppy mass of dye had dried to a crackle stage on my hair, causing it poke out in haphazard directions, streaks of color had created a zig zag pattern and a huge brown stain had seeped down my forehead and ears, resembling a tanning session gone to hell.

Oh shit. No wonder my scalp was so tingly. Apparently that happens when you forget to rinse the dye out.

I think it might be in my best interest to find a new favorite coffeehouse.