TO DYE FOR

I’ve known for quite some time that my pal Mary likes to make over houses--“flips” as they are called in the construction business--but I didn’t know she was also into personal makeovers until I went to Santa Fe last week. After we’d helped Rat pick out some fashionable new jewelry and shirts for his wardrobe, Mary decided our hair needed a pick-me-up and she was just the person to elevate us to a better look.

Rat only needed a little gel and hair scrunching, but The Flaming Bore was a bigger challenge. My hair hasn’t been colored for 17 months, and it looks it. The bottom half is lighter and has no gray in it. The top half is a darker brown with mucho gray stragglers. Since my health insurance rates have risen over the past year, though, I’ve just decided that 90 bucks a whack for a beauty shop dye job is more than I care to spend, especially since the roots with the real color pop back out so quickly anyway.

But Mary, bless her, has the answer. Buy a box of any old brand and color of hair dye for about $3.00, then just use a little dab here and a little streak there with a toothbrush, wait for 40+ minutes, wash, and voila. The gray is maybe, sorta, kinda gone and there is still plenty of dye left for future jobs. It’s a subtle change. So subtle that Big Bore has yet to notice it, even though I told him Mary played with my hair during the trip.

She also told me to get about two inches cut off and have my bangs layered somewhat, to give them more volume. Both good ideas, though, which will be passed along to a real, licensed hairstylist.

While she was dying to dye me, Mary told me a funny little story from the grade school days:

“You had such long, beautiful hair and I just couldn’t keep my hands out of it. I was always wanting to touch it and brush it. (Her own hair at the time was cropped short.) You finally got fed up with me and told me that your mother had given orders that no one was to mess with your hair!” she laughed.

Although I don’t remember this, I don’t doubt it at all. Blaming Mama Bore would have been typical modus operandi for me since I wouldn’t have wanted to lose a friend, especially over such a silly issue as hair.

I’m going to follow Mary’s advice and keep playing with the hair dye. I have an aging box of auburn Clairol something-or-other stuffed somewhere in the bathroom. Maybe if I use enough of it, Big Bore will take notice. If not, I guess it’s no big, fat, gray, hairy deal.