Halloween and Candy Corn Hair
By Diane Sesler
Halloween. Reminds me of candy corn. I don’t like it. It brings back memories of a hairdo gone wrong.
I had a wild hair a few years ago and decided to get a new “do”. I felt spontaneous and picked a salon at random. This is why I have stories to tell. I don’t always function well in the upstairs area.
“Hi!” A too bubbly salon greeter shouts. “I want a cut and color,” I say, with way too much confidence.
“Do you have an appointment?” She is too excited. This is the sign I missed. There are not many clients in this particular place. Curious.
One stylist is available. His name escapes me, but let’s call him Sas Quatch. He is so hairy that hair is protruding out of his shirt. He looks like he’s displaying a brown carpet sample on his chest. I wonder why he doesn’t use his professional talent on himself. He looks damp.
Sas Quatch has a nasal voice that doesn’t match his beastly look. “That’s what you want, hon?” He’s pointing at the pic I chose out of a magazine. It’s an air-brushed celebrity with a smart funky cut.
“Yep, and I want a different color for the fall… a pretty auburn with a few light streaks here and there.” I think this is going well. I smile. Sas disappears to blend the magical potion that will sit on my head. I feel good. A new me is about to emerge. He’s back. Goodness, he sweats a lot.
I feel his paws working on my hair. I’m expecting grunts from him but he’s quiet. I’m looking at a magazine. Drip. What’s that? Drip drip. I look up and see Sas with pearl sized sweat all over his forehead. I feel nauseous. He keeps wiping himself while more sweat bullets land on my magazine. I feel myself gagging. I’m concentrating in order not lose my lunch. I want to run away. I can’t. I have chemicals in my hair. Relax. Not happening.
Sas is done and puts me under the dryer. I’m happy Sweaty Pants is leaving me alone for a while. I curse myself for thinking I’m a cool spontaneous chick. Never again.
I’m hoping that Sas Quatch Sweaty Pants will have to leave for a minor emergency. Nothing serious. Maybe just a tiny reaction from the hair dye and he has to leave. Nope. Here he comes and his chest carpet looks wet. Eek. I’m stuck.
He takes the foils out and washes my hair which is usually a pleasant experience. Oh please, please, please don’t sweat on me. Drip. I suddenly say too loudly, “I HAVE A NECK ISSUE AND I CAN’T STAY IN THIS POSITION LONG” – like Sas Quatch may have become deaf.
“Oh hon, won’t be much longer, you poor thing…. bless your heart!” Then, thankfully, he’s finished. I drag my feet back to his station. I’m becoming depressed with this bad adventure. That’s odd, my hair isn’t dry yet and it looks unusually bright. I look at the model in the magazine. I look at myself in the mirror. There’s a discrepancy. He’s nipping away and there’s more sweat coming my way. Oh, wow… that piece of hair he just cut doesn’t look right. I’m starting to look like a lice victim. It’s choppy and edgy in a non-complimentary way. He grabs his hair dryer and the moment I’m most afraid to see is happening. Holy cow…. MY HAIR! Horror. No doubt about it I look like a bright day-glow orange orangutan. A giant orangutan with a bad chopped-up do. It looks like I got drunk and did it myself.
I’m speechless. Sas Quatch is all smiles. “Looks great, huh?” I stumble out of the chair in a daze and mumble, “Hat… need hat now”.
I drive home sobbing. A circus would hire me on the spot. I run inside the house and grab the first hat I see.
“How bad can it be?” said my friend over the phone. “I’m coming over” she says. She loves drama.
I take the hat off. See? My friend explodes with laughter. She snorts. She holds her ribs. She can’t speak. I want to snap her little head off her shoulders.
“Oh, wow, that is horrible!”
“Gee, thanks.” I really don’t like her right now.
“Holy cow… you look like candy corn for Halloween.” I look in the mirror and dang it she’s right. My hair is orange with uneven streaks of white and yellow strands.
She’s happy with her diagnosis. “Perfect for Halloween” she says.
I have never liked candy corn. I have a better reason now.