Easter Hair

So I just did my hair (and nails) and I am amazed at how much less mess just doing your highlights is . . .

Jennifer (my hairstylist) had stripped out pieces and then dyed them purple . . . which immediately washed out with the first shampoo. So I had brown streaks for a while. And I'm sick of brown streaks. So for Easter, I found some purpley stuff at Noir (called "Burgundy Wine") and kinda painted/mushed some on the brown spots.

Voila! Easter hair.

Not really school appropriate . . . but what the hay, there are a lot of things going on there. And no one seems to notice my hair, except the students. Will probably dye it all black if we have parent teacher conferences or something. But I can do that myself with some other temporary stuff. So now I have purple . . . well, red violet, spots. And my bathroom does not look like anyone was killed. So definitely going with the one skunk stripe for summer. Fun hair. Less mess. Everyone wins!

And yes, I promise to have pictures. Did you not just read the last entry?

Last Day

Today is the last day of the blue hair. Last day for children to look at me in wonder. Last day for the homeless person to tell me how good my hair looks. Last day to be totally separate in a room, without really noticing.

That was the most interesting thing about this experience. I know I have blue hair. I see it in the mirror. I can picture it in my head. But when I go out in public, I forget that having blue hair is weird. That people are going to stare at me and frown. Or raise their eyebrows slightly. Or, my favorite, refuse to look at me at all.

So it was an entire summer of "What? Do I have something on my face? Is my fly open?" when it was just my hair.

And I have to say, the blue hair . . . maybe it's my skin tone, or my aura (my aura was "shiny" the other day, but that is another entry), or maybe it's just that humans should not have blue hair . . . but it never really felt as "right" as the bright red did. Say what you want, Mom. I loved the red. The red made me feel confident and beautiful and special. And the blue? It made me feel different. Which was cool, don't get me wrong. Maybe it's just that the blue somehow wasn't as approachable as the red. Don't know.

So it's back to black tomorrow. I'm trying to grow it out and have already planned the perfect thing to say to my "loves to cut" stylist. Pigtails. Maybe a color streak next summer . . . but then again, I have to stop watching LAink, or I'm going to get some sleeves and become a tattoo artist. And I so want a nickname like "Pixie". Don't know why. I would be a wicked good tattoo artist though. And I'm due for a career change.

Sigh. So last day. I have to break George out of his bag and take some pictures. So sad. Sniff.

Apologies are in Order

"Don't encourage her . . . and don't be nice. Tell her what you really think about her hair."

The server, a parent of a former student, was complimenting me on my hair. My very blue hair. She kept saying she liked it and Princess kept telling her to tell me what she really thought. Evidently, liking it was what she really thought.

"She's just saying that to be nice."

Now I will say, Princess is a trooper. She would not normally be caught dead with someone with blue hair and I mortify her. So being seen with me is a huge gesture of our friendship. Especially at places like say, the Andiamo's in Grosse Pointe, full of couples older than our parents . . . who really should better at staring when I'm not looking. Don't they yell at their kids about that?

"Why doesn't anyone come up and say nice things about my hair? I have really great hair. I pay a lot for this hair . . . and it looks way better than yours . . . "

So if you see Princess, compliment her on her hair. It always looks great. And she deserves it.

Found My Target Audience

I went to my hairstylist yesterday to show her that I fixed the My Pretty Pony turquoise and to make an appointment to dye my hair a "reasonable" color. It will be changed on August 17 . . . for those who want to get their pictures in before then.

My mother was getting her hair cut. Believe it or not, I found this stylist through her (and she is probably still kicking herself for suggesting that I go to Jennifer). And then we went out to lunch. Typical Mom/Daughter together time.

As we were leaving the restaurant, there was a group of boys outside. They had skateboards and were pretty ordinary suburban malcontents.

"Hey. I love your hair." one boy said, brown hair falling into his eyes. He could have been all of twelve or thirteen.

"Thanks." I said and kept walking.

"Yeah, it looks really good. So . . . I tried to dye my hair green once . . . um . . . it didn't turn out so well."

At this point, I go into informing the masses. "This is really hard work." I say pointing towards the blue and then go into the steps and the weekly dyeing. All of this while still walking.

"So you've found who wants to pick you up with that hair." my mother says, once we are out of earshot.

So according to my mother, I appeal to a twelve year old audience. First of all, eeehhhwww. Though she might just be trying to get me to change it back sooner. And second of all . . . eeehhhwww.

More Purple Than Blue

Yeah, Well Maybe It Does . . .

. . . look like a dead squirrel, dyed black, tied to the top of my head. Maybe.

Correction

The cartoon is a creation of Disney . . . trying to benefit from the Anime trend. So I'm not even a live version of real anime, just Disneyifed anime. Like cooked sushi. (okay, in reading the wiki, maybe Cartoon Network . . . which may or may not be cooler)

According to D., the character is soooo me:

Yumi (pronounced /ˈumi/) is depicted as a cynical, sarcastic punk rocker with purple hair and eyes and is dressed in a heavy metal/grunge/goth style with studded necklaces and bracelets, a light purple T-shirt with a skull that make the same expressions as she does, a black miniskirt over purple bike shorts, and black army boots.

Now D., I don't wear black army boots anymore . . . closest I've come is green Doc Martens and that's only in the winter. I'll give you skully shirts, cynical and sarcastic though.

So really, I look like a cartoon Disney punk character (Disney and punk in the same sentence. Yay.) . . . which is really just Disney's attempt to cash-in on Japanese culture (and a weird thing that is . . . two words . . . Hello Kitty). Great. Again, exactly what I was going for . . .

Oh, and PuffyAmiYumi is a Japanese pop/rock group. One of their songs is titled "Destruction Pancake" . . . but there are also titles like "Go Baby Power Now".

Yeah, Hello Kitty.

Because I LOVE Anime

According to my brother . . . I look like this. Evidently, there is a purple-headed one (Yumi).

And Japanese cartoon character was exactly what I was going for . . .

Summer Day Three

That whole idea that I was going to go into work? Yeah . . . I so haven't been into work.

Yesterday, after Pilate's (which kicked my ass), I went wig shopping.

And where does your everyday suburban white girl with blue hair go to buy a wig? Northland mall, of course . . . same place that she goes to buy furniture. What used to be Marshall Fields closeout furniture is on the third floor . . . stacks and stacks of scratch-and-dent furniture . . . marked down in a sorta Dutch auction style. And there is Lee Beauty Supply . . . with it's aisles of hair.

Lee Beauty Supply is between the Target and what is now Macy's. I stumbled upon it when I decided to figure out how to walk the maze to the Target, instead of driving the outside maze of Northland. Lee Beauty Supply had very earnest, but hilarious, commercials on cable about all my hair needs, so I decided to check it out. And I found the aisles of hair . . . and the wig room.

While I find the bags of hair fascinating . . . I don't need extensions. And this was the first time I seriously shopped in the wig room. There are signs on neon paper stating "Please wear wig cap and ask for assistance before trying on wigs" and well, I have blue hair, so assistance found me.

So you pick out your wigs and they put pantyhose on your head. Amazing how soccer mom I can look with a brown bob. After trying on several, I went with a longish black bob . . . made of 100% human hair in China. I was really shooting for synthetic . . . but the black bob looked the best. And according to the wig stylist, I can curl it and stuff. Made me very sad that I could buy someone's head of hair and a Styrofoam head for under $50. Plus all the sewing it to a cap and all. I really would have paid more.

So on summer day three, I bought new hair. And now that I have a "wig stylist" I may go buy more instead of dyeing my hair. Turns out that wigs are way cheaper. (no, they didn't have a blue one) I feel so Sydney Bristow.

I Think It's a Bit Too Bright

"Can I touch it? Can I touch your hair?" the little voice said, with a toddler lisp.

"Sure. You can touch it."

Odd request, I thought, but certainly didn't hurt my hair. I leaned my head down to his reach and he quickly touched some hair on the top of my hair. His hand shot back and clasp his other. There was glee in his big brown eyes. A smile on his face. He walked over to his mother and sneered at his sister, as if he had won something. Like she had been afraid to ask and he had been brave enough.

Small children are fascinated when you have blue hair . . . perhaps it has something to do with clowns. (smile) Plus, I'm kinda dressed like a mom, but with punk rock hair.

So children . . . and transsexuals (the one waiting for the bus really liked my hair and asked all sorts of questions) . . . and random ladies driving in 1986 green Dodge Lancers (again with the questions, like they want the recipe) . . .

Although I think a man came out to "save" the dog I was petting outside of the Starbucks.

This phase may last less than the planned month. Interesting experiment in sociology though.

What will it be this week?

So again we come to the question . . . what color should my hair be for the next six weeks? I'm leaning toward straight black again. I did like it when it was black.

But I hate to waste a good bleaching . . . and half of my hair is already there. Which means I can wait until summer and put a bright color on the white parts (I'm thinking blue, which so makes my parents roll their eyes . . . I suppose I could get a wig for interviews) (Or just tell them that I'm completely willing to go "normal" for an assistant principal job) (That would be hilarious!) or I could put a normal color on the white parts now. I'm wondering if I can do two-tone black, just to break it up a bit. Or maybe burgundy . . . but they might freak about burgundy, thinking that it was going too much toward Elmo.

I would really just like my hairstylist to do what she wants . . . but she did that last time, and I now have this calico cat/skunk thing going on . . . which there are no pictures of because I don't really like it.

So back to black it is. Really really goth "emo" black, the kind that shines blue in the sun. Then I can break out the white foundation and the Cure albums. And there will be no cutting . . . very little cutting . . . I need some stuff over my eyes for Cure songs.

and those blonde highlights

emily: . . . better than talking about your hair . . . all the time.
E2: What? What about your hair?
M2: No, really . . . they always come up to Emily and start talking about her hair. (Blank) and (Blank), whenever they see her.
emily: Yeah, and it's . . . sassy . . . (word was filled in for person in charge by M2)
M2: Would you rather me say, "Emily. She's punk rock!"? (lame finger pointing gesture and squishy face)
emily: Really. No.

I think they get so excited that it's not Elmo-colored anymore. I practically blend into the scenery . . . or look like a normal person. . "Love your hair . . . so cute short . . . and those blonde highlights . . . " So they are trying complete positive reinforcement

Which so doesn't work with the oppositionally defiant.

And E2 got a good snicker about me wanting a matching xmas tree, too.

Barrette Optional

See? Not all that different and not all that blonde, come to look at it. Still playin' with it. Think of it as highlights. Like a sorority girl or something.

Got One in the Closet Already

Sister on phone: "So you look like a skunk?"
"Well . . ."
"Cruella DeVille?"
"I'd prefer to think of it as kinda like a calico cat . . . but I'll let you decide."
"I'm going to get you a Dalmatian coat for Christmas."
"I already have one."

*** No actual dalmatians were harmed in the making of said coat . . . nor by this blog entry . . . nor by the writer herself. However, every dalamatian the writer has ever met has been extremely stupid . . . but maybe she is just not meeting the "right" dalamatians.

Lifted

My hair professional and I have a deal. She doesn't tell me how to teach art and I don't tell her how to do my hair. With that being said, today when I came in I did not get the usual questions. "Are we doin' the same thing?" has been the standard question for a year and a half.

Today, I was told what we are doing. And now, I am much more blonde. Not blonde. But more blonde. Evidently there is a plan to take me into summer. I have already been shown the summer colors . . . which Jennifer can not wait to try (and they are really Elmo colored . . . and one like Grover's nose). Currently, I think I may look like a calico cat. Which, in a way, is sweet.

Let's hope my bosses think so too.

So while we were putting "the plan" in action, there was a lot of burning . . . as it takes something strong (peroxide? Do they still use that?) to turn my black hair into the blondeness. And it's back to sticking up . . . though I was assured that I could wear it down and it would be alright. It's hard to have sticky-uppy hair in the winter . . . can't wear a hat or it gets all squashed. And Jennifer got to talking, so it's too short, again. Which means it will look just right around Dec. 14, fifteen days before I get it cut again. I wonder if the plan calls for more blonde in December? Maybe I should have had her write the plan down or something.

(Then I could show it to the powers that be at work . . . see sir? There is a plan. Educators, they all love a good plan.)

Pictures later.

Hairs Cut and Parade

I went to get my hairs cut yesterday . . . even though there is not much let to cut off. Jennifer gave the black a blue tinge, which I don't notice but my mother liked. So my hair is all hedgehoggy again and will stick up (even without goo).

I now have to go get my truck washed, as my boss, her boss and her boss's boss will all be riding in the back of it. Volunteer every year to drive in the parade, as my truck is a school color. Somehow, this year, that meant driving all the bosses in the back. Usually, it's just yearbook kids chucking candy at little kids and the school mascot (another yearbook kid in a very hot suit). So had to clean all the random stuff out of my truck this morning -- markers, mail, CDs . . . still have to get the plastic swords out and put them in my classroom. (needed more for Romeo and Juliet . . . there are a lot of Capulets and Montagues) Also have to try to not kill or run over anyone.

Can't wait until Sunday. No more Homecoming.

Hair Regret

I am experiencing major hair regret.

I HATE it.

And I feel sick and think I have a fever . . . and my hair looks fugly. And it's so short that it's going to take forever to grow out. I want to cry. A lot.

Shit.

Good Bye Muppet Hair

The appointment is on Tuesday. I dyed my hair "devilish" for the last time yesterday.

And it makes me sad. I like my hair.

I love that small children look at me in wonder. I love that random African American women compliment me in stores. I even love that a group of sullen teenagers in my neighborhood yelled that "Goth" kids suck . . . even though I'm 35. I love that I am easy to spot in a large room. I love that my hair doesn't look like anyone else's hair.

And all of that will be gone on Tuesday. The "rebellion phase" will be over . . . and my hair will be a "normal" color . . . and I will go back to being a "normal" person, as much as I can ever do that.

And it makes me sad. Like Superman being relegated to always being Clark Kent. I guess it couldn't be forever . . . and my shower can't be pink forever.

So Tuesday, I will be "normal" again.

Let the Voting Begin

After some tutorials and some just messing around, I figured out how to "color replace" in Photoshop this afternoon (after work . . . I do still teach sorta).

So here are the contenders for next week's hair choice. I'm a little fearful . . . I do still like the red, but I want to go with something fun for the summer. If they don't look as good as the red, say so and I'll stick with it. Plus, something in my gut tells me I'm too old for blue hair.

Focus and a Sunny Afternoon

Okay, back to center.
Thank you for the reality therapy, mother . . . I'm lucky to have you.
Thank you for the hockey-like hip check, Princess . . .

No sense in being over eager for what is going to happen in life. It will either happen or it will not happen. I have a great job, great friends (who put up with all this bullhockey), and a great family (though brutal at times). All of that has happened.

School is over in a week and a half. My sister bought a great new house. The IKEA in Canton opens tomorrow. Alittle retail therapy and I don't have CD's all over my house (though I have yet to alphabetize them) and I realized that you could probably buy 7 different versions of the song "Suck" on Napster or something.

And despite what my mother says, I have really great hair . . . just ask the girl at the gas station.