Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Vanity, Vanity

Seriously, I could not make this stuff up. These things just happen to me.

Yesterday I sweet-talked my precious daughter into doing a straightening treatment on my hair. Sometimes called a reverse perm, the process straightens hair rather than curls it.

She combed the solution into my hair, saturating every strand as instructed. After testing a few times to determine if the hair was straight enough and approaching the maximum time allowed for processing, my stylist proclaimed, "I think we've got it."

At that precise moment, the power went out.


*Here we insert a little information for those who may not quite understand the gravity of this situation.*

We live in a rural area. Our water comes from a well. A pump brings the water from the well to our house. The pump is operated by electricity. No power, no pump, no water.

We sat there for a few minutes and pondered what to do. Surely the power would come back on momentarily.

It did not.

Finally realizing that I could not sit there with perm solution on my hair indefinitely, and that we could not possibly rinse my hair for 7 minutes with the water bottles we have in our fridge, we took action.

Searching in the dark, we gathered all of the tools we needed to complete our project, grabbed our shoes and purses and ran out the door.

Surprisingly, everyone in our house wanted to go on this outing. The same people who always choose to stay home when given the opportunity to go to the store or other places in town suddenly felt the responsibility to pile in and go somewhere with Mom to finish her hair treatment. I am certain it had something to do with the possibility of my becoming bald and wanting to be there if and when such an event transpired.

All of us loaded up in our van, the kids with their schoolwork and me with a salon cape around my neck and stinking to high Heaven.

I pressed the button to open the garage door, and guess what. Garage doors run on electricity.

Everybody piles out. I go back in the house to retrieve keys to another vehicle parked outside and we run out into the stormy weather which caused the power outage in the first place. As we are headed out the door, my 15-year-old son says, "Mom, can I drive?"

By sheer will, I did not clock him upside the head with my purse or snatch him bald-headed. This restraint probably also had something to do with the picture in my head of what I might soon look like if I did not get this stuff out of my hair. To be fair, he was actually trying to be helpful.

We hopped in our old van and took off to my grandmother's house who chuckled at my predicament but welcomed us warmly. We rinsed my hair extra-well in her kitchen sink and sat at the table together while my hip hair dresser completed the "do."

So far, all is well. I didn't wake up with gobs of hair on my pillow case where it had fallen out in the middle of the night. It is soft and silky, and yes, straight.

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