On Cloud Nine Feeling Like a Ten!

This past Monday, day two of my newest year on this planet, I found myself at an altitude of approximately 30,000 feet somewhere above the Carolinas. The prior night, I ate birthday cake in The Signature Room restaurant on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building in Chicago. A black belt day dreamer, I have often been accused of having my head up in the clouds. Early last week, however, there was nothing figurative about that assessment.

Friday my head was in the clouds again. Friday my head was tended to by a couple I will reverently refer to as the hair gods of Sanford, aka the husband and wife team of Barry and Diane Rovelto, owners of the Hot Heads salon in Seminole Town Center. *Disclaimer to my church pals… No intervention is required. I don’t actually believe that Barry and Diane were dropped from Mt Olympus with golden scissors and sparkling bowls of color in their hands. That would be an easy miscalculation to make, however, as I do believe that what they are able to do with hair is nothing short of miraculous.

I arrived at the salon, after a lengthy absence, with straw – like, over processed hair in a shade that didn’t even come close to resembling the model’s picture found on the $7.95 box of hair color I had used this past July. Not only had I ventured into the wild, wild west of hair coloring, I had done so with both hands tied behind my back (not really, of course, but it was as if I had). Gloves were tossed too early in the process and I ended up with mocha colored fingernails for about two days after the final rinse. Errant drops of color stained my bathtub. A fear of a speckled brown forehead kept me from getting “too close to the edge” and resulted in the “gray at the temples” look that is said to make middle aged men look dashing, but which did nothing of the sort for me. My hair was a mess!

In a fact, my college friend, Vicki, who I saw soon after I had defiled my hair in this manner, took one look at me and offered the following words of wisdom:

“Cutting corners is one thing. Gray roots are another. We don’t do gray roots.”

Our server at The Signature Room last Sunday had been kind enough to skip her rendition of “The Old Gray Mare, She Ain’t What She Used To Be” following the Happy Birthday song, but, honestly, she shouldn’t have.

Vicki ( who probably wouldn’t have gray roots even she let nature take its course, but who certainly wouldn’t show them if she did) celebrating the same birthday I just did. *I have to point out that we were born within weeks of each other.  Maybe it will make you think I’m really in my late 20s.

Me (with my beautiful niece, Ashley) at The Signature Room in Chicago last Sunday night. Doesn’t Ashley have great hair, by the way?

I liken my “before” do to Tom Hanks’ look in the movie Castaway. My hair had that same unruly, dried out, fly away look to it .... and don't even get me started on what I had been referring to as my Susan Boylesque roots.

This past year was kind of a rough one for me.  Like Hanks’ Chuck Noland, I, too, suddenly found myself without a job to go each morning and without the company of a significant other. Also like Chuck Noland, my downward spiral wreaked havoc on my appearance.

Noland’s misfortune came about as a result of faulty equipment… mine, largely as a result of faulty judgment. Note to self: In the future, try to avoid going through a breakup or a breakdown during an economic freefall. One crisis at a time please!

Noland’s own handiwork proved transformative. From his hand and a little color sprang a whole new persona. I’m sure it gave him quite a lift.

My physical transformation came at the talented hands of others. Diane gave me a little color. Barry gave me a little lift and voila….

I felt like a whole new person…

I can say with certainty that I have never before quoted RuPaul, but his song, Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous” sort of sums it up!

I woke up this morning, it's a brighter day
I looked in the mirror, saw a new face
cause I got myself together, steppin' in time
everything's better, this day is mine

Yes I'm confident and self - assured
no holdin' back, not like before
cause I know what I want, can't settle for less
not tryin' to flaunt it, I just want the best. 

I don’t plan to make a habit of posting pics of myself on this blog (particularly not unflattering ones like the “before” and “during” pictures above). I felt it a duty to post these though. Since I have been so bold as to declare Barry and Diane hair divinity, I figured I’d have to provide some proof. I think I have! At the risk of being immodest, if the rest of me looked as fetching my hair does right this minute, I’d be getting an agent…and being mistaken for a soap star and getting date requests from men other than my five foot two, seventy year old neighbor.

These are challenging times and quite frankly, they’ve been wearing me down. It occurred to me recently, however, that being stressed on the inside shouldn’t keep me from trying to look fabulous on the outside. OK… fabulous might be a bit of a stretch. I think I’ll amend that to “better”. There’s no reason I can’t try to look better. There’s no reason I can’t rebrand myself a bit and spruce up the packaging.

Anyway, that’s what I intend to do. I intend to glam it up more than I have in quite some time, to take a bit of a mental break from all of the serious issues, to share what I learn when hanging out at a great local salon and to try to inform and entertain.

That’s the basic premise. I don't know exactly where we'll be going or what we'll be doing, but I know it will be fun!  Hope you’ll come along. For those who plan to…

“Ladies, welcome aboard. Please take your seats and fasten your wide leather statement belts. We’re ready for takeoff!