FEELERS

FEELERS

My hair goes out into the atmosphere like feelers or cats whiskers. Any day now I expect to get signals on it. Perhaps some Chicago radio station playing blues from the 1950s, who knows how long those signals hang out. Some days it acts as a weather vane, not only indicating which way the wind is blowing but the humidity content of the atmosphere.

I take this head of hair to a beautiful beautician about every four weeks. She cuts it in a special way just to accommodate its unique properties. We have spent hours agonizing over which hair care products to use to subjugate it to our will. It just happens that what it will do in this age of free expression looks quasi-fashionable. For this I give thanks to my Creator everyday. The truth of the matter is that I really don’t like to be fooled with and getting a fifteen minute hair cut, dry…won’t sit still for shampooing and heaven forbid she try to blow dry it. I tip her for just leaving it on my head and letting me leave. Like I said, she is a beautiful person.

Occasionally I get a product from her salon that disagrees with the head of hair. I can go from gentle curls to mane if the hair care product leads the hairs in revolution. I purchased this particular one because my old favorite was being improved by the manufacturer. I just want to say that when I find something that I am happy with I don’t always see change as an improvement. I would add that about lipstick colors also. I don’t need to be reminded that I struggle to remain current by being told at the lipstick counter that my color was sooooo yesterday. This product created the illusion of the wind tunnel for the hairs. I didn’t deserve the wind tunnel because I didn’t even blow dry. To say it made me cranky to look in the mirror and see the hairs in full revolution is an understatement. So I called my beautician before my appointment and said you must help me with this. The hair is in full revolt.

Her calmness was a spectacular example of people skills because I was sitting in the chair looking into the mirror saying: “the last time I saw someone with this head of hair, she was leading an army of short spear carrying mutants.” Her response was: “it doesn’t look that bad. I am very proud of your hair. It is a unique haircut.” Shamed…I was ashamed to be casting aspersions on her good work. She washed the offending product out, told me to return it, and suggested that perhaps I was stressed by my life, or my writing, or something… My hair looked okay. Like I said: “She is a beautiful person.”