Lice Comes Head to Head with a New Do

. . . and so off to the salon I went. I needed pampering in the worst and the best way possible and everything inbetween. I needed to feel beautiful after such an ugly experience with lice. Though my pocketbook already felt significantly lighter, this was an emergency...the last straw. I explained my situation to the beautician. The look of compassion was evident in her facial expression. She was about to become the hero of this pathetic story. She wanted to be the means of restoring joy and so she took the time to truly understand the look I was hoping to obtain. The problem... I did not have an idea and so the two of us walked next door to the bookstore in search of the magazine store to look at some of Hollywood's Best. As I gleaned the publications of pretty people with perfect hair and radiant skin, my envy and pity increased ten fold.

finally, I found the image of how I wanted to look upon leaving her salon. The stylist proceeded to tell the steps required in obtaining that look. I heard the word "perm" which had been bad from my vocabulary long ago...as the curls quickly faded while the damage and frizz seemed to be unending. I had the dialogue in my head convincing me that this time it would be different and if there were any lice eggs clinging to life, the chemicals of the perm would end that worry.

The rolling began. I had almost reached the appearance of a strange alien with foils, colorful rods, cotton strips around the edges and a bright cape that covered in sight of human limbs. I could hardly stand to look at this hideous sight in the mirror. She turned me away from the mirror just in time for me to see a gentleman that I had dated, walk for a haircut. "MIRROR! MIRROR! BACK TO THE MIRROR!" I pled.  I kept my head down in hopes that he would not see me and recognize me.  It was too late. "Rebecca...is that you?" The expression on his face was restraining laughter. I should have said "Rebecca who?" in my British accent...but I didn't have one. He continued to talk with me until another stylist called his name which must have been about...oh...five years. Traumatic...the story continues.

While removing the rods from my head, I began calculaing the cost...not just emotionally. but financially:
   * three days off work
   * two $7 Rid Kits
   * four $ 5 cans of  lice spray
   * $200 to have walls and ceiling cleaned and touched up
   * a huge dry cleaning bill ($200 plus) and one ruined $200 dress
   * $90 perm
   * $20 cut
   * $20 shampoo and style
   * $10 tip
   * $30 dollars in parking (almost 5 hours in the stylist's chair)

AND

I hated. despised. cringed at my new look. I pasted on that smile and faked my joy in gratitude..."I love it! Thank you...thank you...thank you!" It did not come close...not even a smidgen close to resembling the woman in the magazine.

Interesting to note...the blow dryer has an expanding effect on a perm. I felt like Clifford the Dog as my hair grew and grew and GREW!

As soon as I exited the salon, I ran past the shoppers. I ran past the doors. I ran past security cameras. I ran to my bedroom. I cried.

In a very unpleasant way, I learned a great deal about the rippling effect of one insignificant decision...not locking my purse with all it's contents up in the classroom closet

*I am not an artist by any stretch of anyone's imagination, but I can say that I did not have the skill to draw my hair as bad as it looked, nor could I capture the shock on my face.