Hair Wars III: A Harem of One

This is the third time I've blogged about hair disasters. It seems me and my hair are mortal enemies. We are always at war. Occasionally, we get tired of the efforts war takes and we declare a cease-fire, but never a peace treaty. I color it, I perm it, I cut it, and I ignore it. I may occasionally win a battle, but I never win the war. A couple of times in all my 50 years found a style that looked good, and was easy to care for… battle won, but I've never been able to duplicate the look, cut or color again… war lost.

After a few months of ignoring my hair as it outgrew my last perm disaster, it was finally starting to look good. I wanted to get it cut, but knowing I couldn't get a decent cut here in Pakistan, I just kept ignoring it. I have nearly shoulder length hair with the perm on the ends so it really does look kind of nice. My roots were showing so I asked Abez to give me a touch up. She unfortunately, forgot which of the many tubes of hair color lurking about the house and only identified with numbers, not names, was the nice color we used the last time. She mixed up a batch of dye and applied it. It wasn't the warm and wonderful strawberry blonde we had hoped for, but a very hot flaming copper!!!

It shocks me to look in the mirror! I'm worried I will be banned from Petrol pumps, and concerned citizens will throw buckets of water on my head as I walk down the street. The only safe place I can go sporting this head-full of flames, is Mc D's, where I will be lovingly treated to lunch as befitting the VIP treatment Ronald McDonald's mother should get.

I try not to complain, but here in Pakistan, with my height, blue eyes and lily-white complexion, I stand out more than enough. The really weird thing is Hubby likes it! I guess that myth about all men wanting a harem of wives or at least one wife with many different looks, is true.