Why I Have Blue Hair

Some may wonder why I decided to add two blue streaks to my hair recently, as this is something I have never done before. Somewhat out of character for me. I have dyed my hair various shades of "normal" over the years, but never any unnatural colors. Not that I have anything against people with brightly dyed hair, it just never struck my fancy. Until a couple of months ago.

We were watching TV one night, I believe an episode of White Collar. One of the characters on the show had the most beautiful shade of blue streaks in her hair. My husband asked me why I had never done anything like that to my hair before. I said I didn't know. But, I couldn't get that color out of my head. It was so beautiful and I am a sucker for blue, in the right shades. And why had I never done that before? For that matter, why couldn't I do it now? It's only semi-permanent and it wasn't like I wanted a tattoo or anything. So, I called my friend Elizabeth and asked her if she would help me, since she liked to dye her hair from time to time.

Our first attempt didn't turn out that great. The dye we bought was called Ultra Violet, but the hair sample on the shelf showed a deep cobalt blue. Sure enough, though, the dye was purple and turned my hair lavender. Plus, it washed out in four days. I took the dye back and traded it for a different brand that was labeled Cobalt Blue. Elizabeth bleached the two sections behind my ears (and also a couple of wisps that frame my face, so I'd have just a bit lighter streaks for summer). Then she put on the blue dye. After we washed it off, it was like an aqua shade, so she put it back on twice more. Then I put it on three more times when I was at home. Still think it may need one more coat, but it is definitely darker and very close to the shade I want.

I joked that I did this before my surgery so that they wouldn't mix me up with another patient and give me a colonoscopy or amputate my leg by mistake, but it wouldn't have mattered anyways since they put a cap on me, covering my hair. Really, I dyed it because I love color. One of my fetishes is nail polish. I love to buy radical, bright nail polish. Why not bring my love of color into my hair? Another reason I did it was just to try something new, since I had never done it before. Also, I like to be different. I used to try to fit in with everyone when I was younger, but the older I get, the more I just don't care what people think. This makes me happy. When my hubby and I went to the KC Chiefs v. Tennessee Titans football game, I absolutely LOVED wearing my blue Titans gear into that vast sea of red! I loved being different, going against the crowd! Finally, I dyed my hair as a statement. People have first impressions of me. This proves that you can't judge a book by its' cover. You may have thought you had me figured out, but then I go and surprise you. I like blasting perceptions!

My daughters were dead-set against me doing this. They complained that I am too old for this. It doesn't matter that one of their teachers at school dyes her hair, or that one of their Awana directors (the friend who dyed mine) dyes her hair. I am their mom and they didn't want me to do it. But, after it was done, they decided they really like it. Six-year-old Billy loves it because it's his favorite color. Eight-year-old Kimberly says it's really beautiful. And ten-year-old Arrena is coming around to it. She hasn't actually made any positive comments about it, but seems interested and not exasperated. She even asked me if I would put some of my dye on her hair for crazy hair day at school. My husband said it was my hair and I could do what I wanted to with it. He now goes around singing, "Am I blue?" So, if my immediate family can get used to it, then I guess everyone else can learn to like it. Not many have commented on it, but I did get one strange look at church last week. It's still the same me I have always been, just being a little more myself on the outside.

Enquiring Minds Want to Know...Apparently?

Ha, ha. My frivolous musings about my hair apparently were of some interest. At the risk of embarrassing her, one of my friends called me Tuesday and Wednesday before finally reaching me today just to know how my hair had turned out! I had been waiting to mention it until I could take some photos and I didn't want to do that, first, before the 48-hour sanction on washing it had been lifted and, second, until my psychotic hair recovered from its shellshock. I don't think it's quite there yet, but I decided to take a couple anyways to share with you.

Well, let me say that it wasn't a horrible experience--I am not running around with a paper sack over my head or racing to another beautician to have the damage repaired. However, it wasn't a success, per se. I really wanted to like my hair because the girl that did my hair was so, so sweet. She talked about her family, I talked about mine. When my hair was processing, she sat down across from me to chat. I knew this wasn't to be a lasting relationship though, because she said that she wanted to go somewhere like Kansas City when she graduates. There was another girl that was supposed to be further along in her education than my stylist, who was trying to help, but she was annoying and flaky. My stylist was much more professional. However, I don't think that she used enough solution on me. When I came in, I told her what I was looking for, a loose curl that I could straighten when I wanted to. She decided on orange rods, but her instructor vetoed that. She said to use the smaller purple rods because my hair is so long, it will be heavy and weigh it down. That all sounds good, but my hair is very fine, so there isn't enough weight on it at all. I think we would have been better with the other rods (another friend, upon seeing my hair, immediately proclaimed that the rods were too small). Then her instructor told her she would probably have to use two bottles of solution on me and to make sure that she thoroughly saturated each strand. I have always needed two bottles and my hair is even longer now than it ever was back when I was getting perms. Except I only saw her use one bottle. And my hair didn't feel near as drippy as it usually does when I get a perm. I am usually itchy and tickly because of the solution running all over my scalp. She had me hold a towel over my face, so I didn't see all of what she did, but I remember noticing a lack of cold wet sensation in the lock of hair over my left eye. Granted my hair has definitely changed in the last ten+ years since I last had a perm, but my hair always took to perms REALLY well. You can tell from the pictures, even if I was acting a little silly (forgive me) that I have flat spots. It looks like I have had a perm that is now old and relaxed and I am in need of another one. Not happy with it, but I can live with it. I figure in about three months, I'll try another one. A friend of mine recommended her stylist, so we'll see if we can't do any better. Live and learn, huh?


The girls are okay at school. Kimmy comes home nearly every day with some woe: someone accidentally knocked a chair over on her or she had a sore throat all day, etc. Arrena's only complaint is the playground equipment. I think they split the age groups that are on the playground at the same time. Kimmy goes to lunch at a different time and she plays on the good equipment while she is there. Arrena isn't allowed to. Chris plans to take her to play at the playground Saturday just to make her happy.

I emailed Kimmy's teacher, as you know, about her being left in the bathroom during the fire drill. She apologized and said she would reassure Kimmy. She assured me that there is a crisis team and the custodians who check bathrooms and every other room to make sure all students get out of the building in case of an emergency. I thought she tried to place part of the blame with Kimmy when she remarked that she tries to get the kids to use the bathroom at certain times of the day and that that wasn't one of those times. I told her that Kimmy just came from a school where there were bathrooms in the classrooms and the children were urged to go any time they needed to without having to ask for permission and that Kimmy often has tummyaches and goes to the bathroom pretty frequently. She said Kimmy HAD been complaining about her stomach hurting and was glad to get that information. She said that she would allow Kimmy to go whenever she wanted to.

Tonight there was a first grade parents' meeting. Kind of silly--to tell us about the homework folders. I've never needed extensive explanation about those so far! Up to now, explanations were either in the form of a note or given when we met the teacher at a conference before school started. Anyways, there were so many rude, unruly children there--most of those parents have no control! I would have lost it if my child were to act like that, in the library, no less! When we first walked in, Kimmy's teacher made a bee-line to me and said that she had noticed Kimmy wearing an Awanas shirt and that she had talked about going to church. She said she was a Christian and wanted to ask where we went to church. I told her and she said she had grown up in a similar denomination and that she did some sort of ministry with missions (my memory is SO bad). I told her that Kimmy's grandparents were leaving in a few weeks to be missionaries to the First Nations people in Canada, so we are very sensitive to missions. She was pleased. I was impressed that she was so open about it, saying all of this in full hearing of other parents. Some teachers tend to shy away from public proclamations of that sort for fear of being caught up in some separation of church and state scandal. I remember the conversation I had with the girls' old gym teacher about that subject. Kimmy's teacher last year was a Christian and regularly prayed for the students, so Kimmy gets to continue with that trend this year. Hopefully they will both grow to like their school.

Internal Battles

I was really struggling with myself this evening. I was really mad at Chris and my feelings were at odds with my head. I wanted to lash out and retaliate, but I knew what I SHOULD be doing. I went to church this evening, a little bitter and angry. In the car, I could hear this still, small voice in my head telling me what I should do, but I was squelching it in order to think on what actions (direct or passive-aggressive) would make me FEEL better. If you remember the Bible story where God reveals himself to Elijah, it says that there was a wind so strong that it tore the mountain, but God was not in the wind. Then there was an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. Then there was a fire, but God was not in the fire. After that, came a still, small voice and that was God. Sometimes I think that if you don't listen to the still, small voice, God stops speaking to you. But other times, I think God tries a little louder to get your attention. Such was the case tonight. Our pastor's father-in-law was speaking tonight. He just celebrated his 65th anniversary and has been in the ministry for 58 years. He spoke tonight on I Corinthians 13--the love chapter. I groaned inwardly. THIS is what the voice in my head had been trying to tell me, but I had shushed it quickly. Now, I was at His mercy for about half an hour. You know already what happened. The passage is: "4) Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5) It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6) Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7) It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8) Love never fails." The italics are mine, indicative of how much of the passage was convicting! So, instead of leaving my phone off and staying out as long as possible, taking the kids to McDonald's and bringing him nothing (as was the beginning of my evil scheme), my first step of charity was to turn on my phone. Which promptly warned me of a message, of course from my infuriating spouse, who was locked out of the house and accused me of doing it on purpose out of spite. I bit my tongue near off and tried to call him back. There was no answer. I could have gone on to McDonald's with the kids, but I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and went by the house first to see if he had gotten in yet and if he had eaten yet. He was, in fact, there and was hungry. And instead of ignoring him or letting him have it, I calmly stated why I was angry. Not sure if it did any good, but I did what I think God wanted me to do. I know it seems like a simple thing, turning on my cell phone, and picking up some McDonald's for him, but it was an about-face for me. Someone once accused me of not having a backbone because I didn't stand up for myself and basically didn't fire away with both barrels when someone (specifically, Chris) mistreated me. Honestly, I think it's harder NOT to react. I didn't want to be nice. At all. I'm right. He's wrong. Why should I have to be the bigger person here? Because anyone can react. But God demands for us to love our brethren and the world and "by this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." That self-control and collaring feelings and proceeding even though wounded is one of the hardest things I think I have ever done. And it hasn't gotten any easier over the years. Jesus never said it would be easy to turn the other cheek. And I have to keep recalling the lesson I learned years ago about forgiveness--how can I expect to be forgiven, if I don't forgive?

Anyways, that's enough deep thinking for today. My brain hurts.

I am biting the bullet and getting my hair permed in the morning. ACK! I called the lady that used to cut my dad's hair and the bottom fell out when she said she was quitting to be a nurse in two weeks and she is booked solid. So, my finding a bond with my stylist scheme fell apart. I decided to call the Xenon beauty school and make an appointment instead. I figure whoever does my hair will a student, too new to be unfriendly towards people who aren't regulars. And if I like her, I'll ask her to let me know where she ends up working and I will go to her every time. Best I can come up with at this time! We'll see how it goes. I am so nervous!

To Perm or Not To Perm, That is the Question

I am debating about whether or not to perm my hair. Life-shattering, world-shaking, big-time important debates here, let me tell ya! Anyways, I've been going back and forth about this for a long time.


Chris liked my hair curly and has often mentioned that he'd like to see it that way again. I had straight hair up until I was in the 5th grade (I think that's when mom took me to have it permed). From then on, I had curly hair. I don't know what happened to my hair after that, but the perms would not relax over time or grow out--my hair stayed curly. I finally started straightening my hair with hair driers with brush attachments when I was around 22. I have been doing that ever since. Nearly ten years of straightening my hair and experimenting. I always had to "do" something to my hair. I couldn't just get up and go. I couldn't just let it dry naturally and go. I always had to "fix" it. Well, in the last couple of years, I had finally gotten my hair to the point where I can blowdry it with the brush attachment and go. I don't have to tease it, spray it, pin it up, etc. I have finally become one of those girls who can run her hands through her hair! I remember my parents teasing me when I was a teenager about how much hair spray I used and how stiff my hair was ("Ouch! I got a splinter from patting you on the head."). Now my hair is long, straight, and product-free!


So why the urge to perm now? Well, for one, sometimes I think with my body type now (I am still trying to lose weight from baby #3), it just doesn't look right on me. For two, now that I have gotten to the point where I don't feel the urge to style my hair, I wonder if curly hair would be easier and I COULD just get out of the shower and go. That's especially been persuasive to me when thinking about going camping. I don't want to be the prissy girl that brings her hair drier to camp out! But, I also don't want to be the frizzy weirdo either. Without the blowdrying, my hair either flattens itself on my head and around my face or it frizzes up and has a slight wave to it. Either way is TOTALLY unattractive! So, I was thinking that maybe I should get it permed, if for no other reason, than that it would be easier to care for when camping.

I am thinking of a loose curl, more of a wave, so I could still blowdry it straight when I want to. But, I am scared. I have spent so many years getting my hair to the point that I actually like it, I don't want to ruin it! Today, for the second time in the last couple of months, I had a stranger tell me I had beautiful hair. I'm afraid that perming it again will ruin me. If I hate it, I'll be stuck again with decades of curls and my hair will have to go through years and years before it will be the same again. Ugh, is it worth it? And what will I really look like? I've tried those makeover programs where you superimpose a hairstyle on your head, but it still looks fake and not the way I would wear my hair.

Ack! Why am I wasting so much time trying to make this stupid decision!? I've been debating this for about a year now. The camping thing is what has intensified my debate. My family reunion/3-day camping trip is coming up in three weeks!


Another aspect of this is that I have long been trying to find a beautician/barber/ hairdresser, whatever you want to call them, that I trust. You constantly hear of women being comfortable at their beauty shop, as though they are among friends. Their stylists know them and their whole families and all of their intimate secrets. I've never found someone like that. And consequently, I believe, I have never liked the results when I walk out of a salon. I absolutely despise going to a salon. I walk into one and feel like an outsider. I don't think I have ever had a stylist that treated me friendly enough that I wanted to go back or ever trust her with my hair again. And my hair does funny things anyways. Any time I get it cut, it's like it goes into shock. It acts like a spaz for several days and I can do nothing with it! It's just unnerving to walk into a salon and have everyone look at you like you don't belong there. My hair is important to me and I hate having to trust it to someone who is unfriendly. Which is sad because I absolutely love to have someone play with my hair. That's better than a massage for me! Yet, trips to the salon (very few and far between) are always a source of stress instead of enjoyment.


I've only known one friend who had a great relationship with her stylist, enough to recommend her to me, but she is too far away for me to use her. So, I suddenly had a great idea. My dad had this lady that he went to for as long as I can remember. I'm not sure why we never went to her. But, she has known our family since I was a child and even bought my parents' house when they separated. And it suddenly dawned on me that I don't even know if she knows that my dad died! So, maybe I can go see her. Maybe with her knowledge of my family, she can be that stylist that I have a rapport with. So, I am thinking of calling her salon to make an appointment with her. I found out that her old salon closed and a new one opened in its place. I inquired about her and found that she had moved to another salon. Now, all I have to do is call and make an appointment. The only question is, will I? I don't know if I can do it! HELP!

{The pictures, from top to bottom: me in the sixth grade ['88-'89] (lovely, huh?), one of my senior pictures ['94-'95] (not too bad if not for the big glasses), me and a baby from church ['97 or '98?], and the last is me today ['08] (couldn't get the full length of my hair in the picture, but it is long!)}