Hello. My name is Blue Girl in a Red State. I'm two years away from turning 50. And. I have long hair.
I know what you're thinking. Does she have a job? Who would hire her? Her with that long hair. It's so "unsettling... rather sad and dated... as if she's desperately trying to rechannel Joni Mitchell in her heyday."
You are so wrong to think that! Well, only sometimes wrong. I do straighten my hair some days but other days I let it dry naturally. It's kind of (very) wild and wavy. So on those days, I'm desperately trying to rechannel Roseanne Roseannadanna in her heyday.
Some days I have in between hair. I straighten it but it's too humid. I can't get that flat, sleek look. It's straight, but thick looking. Those are the days I'm desperately trying to rechannel Cousin It in his heyday.
I rechanneled Ms. Rossanadanna this past Thursday. It was way too hot and humid to even try to straighten it. And I had the gall to go to a client meeting. After the meeting, I had to take pictures of a garden that had just been planted. As I was taking pictures of the Lavender, stonecrop and mint, I heard a door open and someone yell, "Hey! Someone told me there was a lady outside taking pictures! I looked out my window and said, 'I would know that hair anywhere!'"
And then she yelled, "You're fired!"
Not a true story.
She yelled, "I already took pictures. You can use mine!"
And I said as I walked toward her, "Thank God. This heat is killing me. I am going to melt into a puddle here."
In my mind, melting into a puddle in front of your client's corporate headquarters would be very unprofessional. So I'm glad that her professionalism, by already taking pictures for promotional purposes, saved me.
We got down to business and chatted for a few minutes. About her hair. When I saw her on Monday, her hair was red. On Friday, it had been cut into a somewhat spikey, somewhat sleek, short, punk rock bob, bleached platinum blonde, with hot pink streaks, randomly placed here and there.
You might think she was desperately trying to rechannel Blondie in her heyday, but my client's only 31. She's just smart, strategic, and trying to remain employed.
We cut our chat short because it was too hot to stay outside. It was 95 degrees, 100% humidity. I was beginning to feel like a mess. I could feel my hair growing. Outward and upward in all directions. I said goodbye, got into the car and looked in the rearview mirror. I was surprised, I still looked acceptable. But decided to get my hair off my neck and shoulders and whipped it up into a ponytail for the drive home. When I did, I noticed a bit of gray hair, randomly placed here and there.
Oh, Dear Lord, I am rechanneling my inner Cruella DeVille, I thought to myself. With the amount of hair I have, to get color, a cut and style takes hours. Hours and hours and hours. And I've been too lazy to do that. I have too much to do!
So I've got to make an appointment at the salon soon. Because we all know what being lazy can do for a lady's career.
Read Maria de Cesare's post, "The Truth Is Out, Ladies: Your Long Hair Is Killing Your Career." It's hilarious. But, of course I'd think that. de Cesare has 18 inches of wavy, natural, murderously long brown hair. We are of the same tribe. Mere amateurs.
And for anyone who is interested... The Skimmer prefers me with short hair. Liar.