Even though my friend, Fiona has to work today, I still get to hang with her. Her company is sponsoring a coloring expert to come teach their salon the tricks of the trade. They have said I get to be a guinea pig for the hair coloring. Now THIS totally excites Fiona. She can’t believe I am allowing her complete control over my hair. She is beside herself with excitement. Me, I’m not nervous at all. I’m letting loose and am totally open to whatever happens. It’s Fiona’s birthday weekend afterall. Bring it on!
I arrive around 1pm which was after the salon had their “education” which in their world is complete with a veggie platter, cake and spiked punch. Luckily they saved some for me since they were already in full swing. Most of the people there were people I had met the night before at the surprise party. There was one person whom I didn’t know but I noticed her right away. She was the hair color expert from Connecticut, Amy and I was immediately attracted to her.
Fiona was very excited about changing my hair color but Amy came over, touched my hair, running it through her fingers, studying it and said, “Why would you want to change this beautiful hair? There’s nothing I would do to it.” Fiona is going on and on that she’s waited years to color my hair and she had to do something to it. I just sat there admiring Amy while they were arguing over my hair. At one point Amy said, “Run, get out while you can! Don’t let her do this to you. Here, I’ll give you a ride.” Of course I jumped at that offer and asked where she wanted to take me. I’d go anywhere. Little did she know part of me would have loved nothing more. But alas, Fiona figured out she would just highlight my hair so I would have to stay. But first Fiona said while I was all hers she was going to once and for all wax my brow. This, she had waited many years to do since I wouldn’t let her touch it before today. After all was said and done I was now primped with two very defined eyebrows and my hair highlighted (which you really couldn’t tell but Fiona was happy).
Afterwards Amy kept touching my hair saying how good it looked but how unnecessary it really was. There is something about someone running their hands through my hair. No one had done that in years and I didn’t want her to stop. I was mush and I was putty in her hands. There was part of me that wanted to explore more what I was feeling between her and I. But it just wasn’t logical. What it had done though was it had made me realize she was that reminder I needed for what was really going on in my head about my sexuality and what had been missing from my marriage. It wasn’t about her but it was all about me.