6 posts tagged “feel like a woman”
Got this from my sister's blog...
Well, I got the courage up to go to the hair salon and let them feel my scaby scalp. Actually, they only peered down at my part and acknowledged that yes, there were scabs there, and yes, that I apparently got a chemical burn from the hair dye.
Validation. What a relief.
They also asked what I wanted. What do I want? I want a scab-free scalp, that's what! But alas, not to be had. I could have asked for a discount off the coloring or off the next one, but just call me chicken.
Today, my scalp is peeling. Large flakes of skin just peeling off. This has happened before so I'm not alarmed as much as annoyed.
But on the brighter side of life, the photo shoot that was the catalyst for my Hair Dye Horror turned out so well and the photographer - Clark James Mishler - sent me a shot that I could use on my blog. See it Upper Left Corner of this blog.
I think the pain of a chemical burn and the irritation of a peeling scalp is actually worth it, don't you?
In all seriousness, it is one of the best photos ever taken of me. I'm thrilled!
"Suffer for Fashion."
We've all heard that phrase before. And although I have always prided myself in being a low maintenance woman from the standpoint of my appearance, I think I may have been deluding myself all these years. Because I stand here before you today with a Hair Injury.
Went to get my hair done. I fluxtuate between getting it dyed and then not getting it dyed for long stretches of time, until my natural ash brown comes in with strands of gray, a stark, skunk-like contrast to the reddish brown every hair color seems to turn on me. When I was RVing around the country and couldn't care less about my appearance - which is different from low maintanance - I hardly even noticed the motley mess on my head.
But whenever I'm around other people in a professional setting, I suddenly get paranoid that I look frumpy and unprofessional with my long hair and old color job. Oh, I also pride myself in not giving a damn what other people think, but I think that, too, is a sad delusion.
So what do I do to feel better? I go get my hair dyed. Of course, I had a perfect excuse. I was asked to participate in a photo shoot for the new marketing campaign for Alaska Public Television, and the shots were going to be very close up - face and head. That kind of scrutiny warrants new hair color, right?
Well, I went to a highly recommended place and explained what I needed. Then the hair dresser began applying the dye.
It burned.
"It's burning," I said.
"What?!" she asked, not as if she was horrified that it was burning me but she seemed shocked that the word 'burn' was being used in the salon.
"Burning. It's burning my scalp."
"Do you mean burning burning or tingling?"
I had to think a moment. Was this a scalp tingle or a burn?
"Burning," I said tentatively because suddenly I was doubting what I was feeling because she seemed to be so surprised by it. Hadn't hair dye ever burned anyone's scalp before?
"This has never happened before," she said, then offered to wash the dye out. Of course, she also mentioned that it hadn't been in long enough to process so we "wouldn't get the color we want."
Was I being a wimp? Was I being hysterical? I mean, this is a hair salon for God's sake. I'm sure they don't go around burning heads.
I decided to wait it out, burning scalp and all. I held my breath, let it out slowly, closed my eyes, rolled my eyes back into my head, praying the burning would dissipate. It didn't.
"It really is burning," I said again. She brought the owner over to discuss.
"This has probably happened before but it's like, one in a million. I don't personally know anyone it has ever happened to," she said, then she asked "Do you mean burning burning or tingling? I know it definitely tingles when it goes on."
"No, this is burning. This has happened once before," I explained, and told the story of the most highly recommended hairdresser in Laramie Wyoming and how the dye there burned my scalp as well. "My scalp skin was peeling off in big pieces for a week after," I told them.
They looked at one another, reiterated that the color hadn't set yet, but they left it up to me.
I was embarrassed. The last time my scalp was burning from the hair dye, the hair dresser in Wyoming dismissed it and said "Oh, that's how it is supposed to feel," and I felt like an idiot.
This time, my hair dresser's eyes grew more concerned as she watched me wring my hands until they were white with tension and my eyes fluttered and rolled as I tried to endure the pain in the most quiet, least obvious manner.
"Let's rinse it off," she said, and I obediently followed her to the sink. The moment the water hit my scalp, I felt instant, blessed relief. Of course, then she used a shampoo that she said was excellent because it "makes your scalp tingle." It burned, but I knew this whole painful ordeal would be over soon.
My hair turned out great. Lighter than we had discussed but with subtle and natural highlights. I was pleased and decided to put the Burning Scalp Incident behind me.
But two days later, I have scabs across my scalp. Lots of them. I can run my fingers through my hair and across my scalp and feel crusty bumps of dried, healing flesh. My hair still looks great, but I have Scab Head.
I want to go back to the salon and have the hair dresser run her fingers over my scabs to feel them, to show her that I wasn't exaggerating when I said the dye was burning me. But then I think "What good is that going to do?" What will I gain by forcing them to look at my scabs? And whose fault was this? My own because I tried to wait it out and didn't insist that they rinse my scalp immediately? Theirs for not rinsing immediately regardless of my hesitations?
I have to take responsibility for any injuries sustained during a vanity moment. I wanted a more even hair color and got injured in the process. I think it is a risk we all take when we go against what Mother Nature intended for us and pump and primp our bodies with chemicals. At some point, something is bound to backfire on us, and then we literally Suffer for Fashion.
So today, I'm a Fashion Martyr.
Excerpted from one of my other blogs, Babyfruit, because I'm a one-trick pony, I have no humor left in me today, and some of this bears repeating.
1. I have cysts in both of my ovaries.
2. I have been forced to take The Pill to try to shrink said cysts.
3. Even if I wanted to try to get pregnant this month or next, I couldn't.
4. They have found "something" in my right breast that they've spotted in my recent (July 26) mammogram. I had to call to get the previous mammogram screens sent up here and They are claiming to have only received them a few days ago. I was supposed to hear back in 2 days - Wednesday - with results. They still "do not have final results" so I have to call back again today. I don't know about you, but I would think that this is a little bit of a high priority. If they DID see something and it WAS something like cancer, I seem to think that the freaking MONTH they have made me wait for further information could be somewhat critical.
5. I was getting ready to have a martini or a Bloody Mary and just realized that it is only 2:00pm in the AFTERNOON.
6. I am supposed to be working on my blog book and am finding every possible way to procrastinate, namely by blogging. And I am on DEADLINE.
1.The vodka in that martini stops tasting like rubbing alcohol and actually tastes damn good.
2.Having a memory is a nostalgic thing. You no longer have a reliable one but you remember a long time ago when you had a good one.
3.Menopause ceases to be a foreign word about a totally irrelevant experience that won't be happening in your lifetime.
4.Yoga is the new Sex.
5.You no longer pick your wine based on entree but instead pick your wine based on whine.
6.You actually start believing that skincare products can reduce fine lines and replenish your skin's elasticity.
7.You're finally ready to have a baby after devoting much time and energy to your career, and your ovaries or uterus are putting up a fit.
8.You and your girlfriends are wondering if 40-something is the new 30-something. (wink to Tery on this one)
10. You stop shaving legs, armpits and nether regions because, well, who cares?
9. Coloring your hair to get rid of the grays has become more of a philosophical debate than an actual act.
8. You throw your Victorias Secret items into the washing machine. And dryer.
7. Tweezing eyebrows and moustache seems like a ridiculous exercise in futility.
6. Matching Old Navy velour sweats are your idea of dressing up.
5. You can no longer tell the difference between your brain on coffee or your brain on hormone supplements.
4. Manicures and pedicures are strange acts performed by other women but definitely not you.
3. The one item you never leave home without is...a scrunchie.
2. You call yourself a feminist then can't think of one single woman's issue to discuss. Ummm....
1. You're sick and tired of perimenopausal forgetfulness that made you forget what your #1 Sign was going to be...
