Casa de Clemmons: A Tribute To My Dear Cousin

A Tribute To My Dear Cousin

I'm supposed to be at the grocery store but I have two children happily playing and picnicking in the sunshine out back and so the store will just have to wait.

Instead, I'll tell you a story.

I got my hair cut last week. I am rarely one to be proactive and get my hair cut at reasonable intervals. Usually I realize that I can't stand my hair another minute, it is driving me crazy and if I can't get a hair appointment soon I shall be forced to snip bits of it off on my own. (really, really, really not a good choice)

Last week I hit this desperate point and called my handy dandy haircutter. Yippee, she had an opening the next day. I braced myself, mentally looked forward to the appointed day and, just to be on the safe side, hid the scissors. (yes, from myself, you must be blonde to do this, do not try this at home, or ever mention it to me again)

When I went in for the snipping, it was mutually agreed upon that I had indeed waited a bit too long this time. (6 months by recalling our last topic of conversation...her trip to Miami, alone & kinda scary, a memorable conversation) I proceeded to give her free reign to do whatever she wanted with my hair, only requesting "Please take off several inches and make it not look like I have an old worn out whisk broom perched on my head." She said she had an idea and started cutting. And cutting. And razoring. And cutting. And razoring. And razoring. Hair flew everywhere. My eyes opened as I saw 8 inch locks fall from the razor cutter again and again. Hmmmm.... This was going to be interesting. Would I end up looking like an old Billy Idol head shot? Had I traded my broom for a swiffer duster? I tried to remain calm and watched the sculpting with great interest. (After all, I have always liked her haircuts in the past; I have just usually given some guidelines as to what I wanted.)

She slathered me with product(s) and blew it dry. Not too bad. Not sure the styling was me, but not Billy Idol. (definitely a plus) This was Tuesday.

Wednesday I attempted to dry my hair into some style and it looked weird. I put it in a ponytail and forgot about it.

Thursday..attempted the blow dryer thing again. Different results. Still odd. Kinda like a piece of an old fur coat set clumsily on my head. Back to ponytail.

Friday...only halfway dried it as a result of a delayed wake time and a need to enter Dallas rush hour traffic promptly at 7:30 a.m. with small children. Kinda flat, nothing special, made me say "hmmmmmm."

Saturday morning in Bryan I was getting ready for Ren Festing and a light popped on over my head. (really. like in the comics. only this was a whole string of them like the vanity lights in the bathroom. which is where I was.) See, I am not really very gifted (okay, maybe I am giving myself way too much credit, but I can, this is my very own website, not yours.) in the area of fashion or makeup or hairstyling or anything that involves personal aesthetic improvement. But I am related to those who are. And one of those types was walking by. This particular relation has assisted me in this area of nonexpertise on other occasions. She has shopped with me and consulted on hair etc. AND she happens to have a degree in this stuff. (And is very talented and likes me...so far...at least on Thursdays)

I request, nay, drag her into the bathroom and say "Help! I have no idea how to make this haircut look like something that was done intentionally, nevermind it being a good thing. Ack! What do I do?" and I handed her the hairdryer and the brush. She assessed the situation and frowned a bit and then started doing something. (I don't know what, that's why she is doing it and not me.) All of the sudden, it didn't look so bad. I took over and tried to duplicate her process. (she is giving verbal instructions all the while) She snickered at me and slowly moved the dryer saying "Don't blow the hair OFF the brush, blow it ON the brush." (Maybe that's why I can't ever get the left side of my hair to work right.)

Ya know. When we were done, it wasn't bad. Maybe even good. I have since had at least one good hair day. (there have only been 3 days since and today it is a wet mop perched on top of my head and secured by a blue scrunchie.)

I wanted to give this special person a public thank you. And because I respect her quiet and simple desire for modesty and her need for escape from fame and the public spotlight, I shall simply use my own affectionate and quite seasonally appropriate name for her...

THANKS CHICKENTINA!

For those of you not directly related to me, there are several "unusual” names in our family. Chickentina is quite sensitive and very easily crushed. Please refrain from any comment which would be considered unkind or insensitive to someone with a "special" name. Thank you for your consideration and discretion.

And don't tell her where I am.

Posted by stephanie at November 22, 2006 01:36 PM