Being Blonde

After Chemo treatments you lose your hair.  (If that were the only thing you lose…)  It’s a gradual process and rather disgusting when you find chunks of hair in your comb.

When my hair was wisps around my head I bought a wig  approximating my own hair – medium brown and wavy.  Actually it was much prettier than mine had been.  This was glossy, thick and bouncy, and $400. – ouch.                   

Two months later my pick-up walker and I fell down.  The walker was unscathed – I broke a mess of bones and needed surgery.  No point wearing a wig when your days are spent lying in bed.  It stayed on the closet shelf.                        

Then all of a sudden I had a cap of white hair.  This is about five or six months after the first Chemo. Soon after I had very curly, very sparkling white short hair.  Someone said, “I love your haircut.”  But the white startled me.  I had forgotten all the root touch-ups that kept me brunette. 

I looked around the rehab and all the ladies had white hair.  And they were old!  I knew that as soon as I escaped the rehab it would be straight to the beauty salon – for blonde hair.

Why blonde?  Why not?  I remembered the refrain from a hair product that said, “Blondes have more fun!”   I don’t remember the product, but the mantra stuck.

So there I was, in Blake’s chair picking out the color from among the pictured models in his large book.  Timidly I chose a pale blonde.  After the whole process and the shampoo that soaked the back of my shirt,  I was at the mirror with the wet towel on my head.  He whisked it off,  and there I was – still white.  He said defensively, “That’s platinum blonde.”  I said, ”That’s white.”  He said, “Do you have time?  I’ll repeat the process.”  He did.  And he whisked away the towel – still white.  I guess my stubbornness goes down to my roots.  I went back the next week for the promised do-over.  “OK,” I said, “Let’s go for a little more yellow.”   

So finally I am a blonde. Do I like it?  Not really.  My visiting LA. daughter said, “You look adorable,” or did she say cute. I believe her, and my husband, when they say they like it.  I pause at every mirror I roll by at the house. I’m not sure. 

There’s one thing I’m sure of – I had more fun as a brunette.  But then I had two dancing feet.

 ---Florence

Comments

[Ellen]

Blond or brunette, dear Florence, ... it don't matter, you'll look great. And you can change whenever you want.

Mickey's Aunt Irene used to change her hair color often. When some idiot, uninformed about the protocol, would ask why she didn't just pick one color, she'd give them a look - such a dumb question.

Once I was sitting next to Aunt Irene at a bar mitzvah. She looked like a million bucks. High fashion shoes, and a drop dead gorgeous outfit.

I took a chance.

"Your shoes are beautiful, but don't they kill your feet?"

She liked me. Phew. I got a smile. No look. "Of course they kill my feet, but I look good."

Ha ha ... yeah. I had to agree.

The Aunt Irene secret to life: "It's better to look good than to feel good."

[Birgitta]

I like you being blond! It makes your beautiful brown eyes stand out. Now we look more like sisters than sisters-in-law.
Love,
Birgitta

[Peter Byrne]

So you've had the best of both worlds. When you start getting bored by the mirror, you will now have to go extraterrestrial ginger red.

[Raju Peddada]

I have been dying to see you... now, I can't wait... I gotta come and see you... I ab-soul-utely love blonds, and, please make sure Art doesn't come in that day!

Raju Peddada

[Cathy Weingart-Ryan]

Hi Florence, so, we're "fellow blondes" ! I am really in good company :) Miss you very much. Be well.
Love,
cathy (Weingart-Ryan)