I’m sitting here watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey
(< sarcasm >oh they make me proud of New Jersey < /sarcasm >)
they’re talking about the Skank’s hair extensions… which made me go through my archives and find my former post about MINE… which i posted originally in 2002 and then again in 2008 — yeah, apparently, i love re-telling this story:
THE WEAVE STORY Originally posted: Posted on October 22, 2008
i’ve been on facebook reliving good ol’ college glory via a friend’s photos… and she’d posted a comment:
“(We won’t mention the word “extensions”.)”
I didn’t think anyone knew and she posted:
“There are no secrets at UArts, bwah, ha, ha, ha, ha! Everyone felt bad about it for you.”
oh dear… well I may as well share the full story (i’d done a podcast about it a few years ago, alas, i think that podcast has been deleted…)
So, I searched my blog and found the story that I’d posted back in 2002 about the “incident” that happened in 1991… [original post]
inspired by snazzykat’s hair story i figured i would write about mine. this is long. seriously. long.
although which one should i choose? hmmmmm? i am a magnet for hair horror stories.
should i choose the shaved head look? no, i liked that. how about the old lady cutting my hair the day before my grandfather’s funeral when i was 12… and she created a “punk look” (old ladies should not try to create a “Punk Look”)… i had class pictures the next day, so for all of eternity my 7th grade photo will look like Gossamer the just add water monster from Bugs Bunny.
but that’s not the worst one… neither is the time when i had my hair frosted (with a cap) and my hair was short in the back… i came out with leopard spots on my head.
the worst was *sigh* ::sit down for this one::
it all started back in 1991… i had short hair. i was sick of it. i wanted to have long hair like my friends. i wanted to be able to brush it. i longed for the moment when i could pull it back into one of those “new-fangled” scrunchies. but i couldn’t. i would have to wait.
this wouldn’t do.
i being of the spoiled-brat-instant-gratification persuasion wanted long hair and i WANTED IT NOW!!!! (picture veruca salt from willy wonka. my hero.)
so mom and i trekked off to the Ocean Township Hair Replacement Center. Because the Jersey Shore is “known” for hair weaves, right?!
yes. i was going there to get an estimate on a weave. crazy white girl from the shore.
the appraised my head at $800.
WHAT!?!?! Eight Hundred Dollars!?!? crap. mom wasn’t gonna fork that kinda dough over. I would have to wait.
or would i? (insert evil suspense noise: “Dun Dun Duh DUH!!!” while i raise one eyebrow.)
see, i had an apartment in philadelphia still. i was going to school there, it was summer though so i was home. anyway i drove out to philly, pocketed $300 and stayed overnight.
I looked through the Philly Yellow Pages for a Weave Specialist… mind you, a “CHEAP” weave specialist… A-HA! one that said they could do it for $250!!!! woo!!! so the appointment was set. before i had it done, i went to the store and bought hairclips and scrunchies and hair gel and all kinds of hair goodies!!!
i was so excited!!! HAIR~!!!! (yes i started singing “Aquarius” – i don’t know the “hair” song, just the “aquarius” song)
so i reach the place. it’s in an alley in philly. it’s dark. i had to climb up 4 flights of stairs.
did i turn back? no.
when the 2 oriental [ed. yes. i wrote "oriental", i should probably have written "asian"] woman opened the door and i saw a sparse room without mirrors did i run out of the door?
when i saw the glass case filled with hair – the one that i had to choose my hair out of like it was a 2 pound lobster… did i leave?
no. i was THIS close to having a full head of luxurious hair cascading down my back.
they sit me down and over the next few hours proceeded to glue the hair onto my head.
GLUE!?!?!? (oh, you caught that?)
yes. glue. but keep in mind, i am crazy naive white cracker girl from the ‘burbs of jersey… i thought this was what they called a “weave”
they proceed to say “we match hair color”… ehmmm… okay. so i go through a dye process with what feels like a mane of thick beautiful hair on my scalp.
they dry it. they say “feel. feel nice. yes?”
remember… no mirrors.
dum-dum (uh… that’s me) pays them. tips them. and walks down the stairs to the street. i look in the distorted glass of the store windows, and all i can see is hair! shoulder length hair!!! YAY!!!!! so so so happy!
i walk back to my car to drive home… and all the guys are checking me out!! woo!! my life is gonna change since i have the rapunzel look going on!!!
i begin to drive home (after i pull my hair back into a scrunchy…)
a few truckers honk their horns and are smiling!!! yay! (not that my goal was to attract truckers, but, still… at least women wouldn’t hit on me and my short hair again!!!)
i make it home – run into the house and show my mother.
whose face went pale. mine did not. apparently my face turned pink and blotchy. hives. yes. i was allergic to the hair.
i look into the full mirror. i have fake (or was it Yak?) African American Curly Nappy Spirals hanging off of my head. But not all over my head. only in 4 strips. the rest of the head was short hair.
the main color is Black. the other colors on my head were an orange and a light brown.
so my mother starts crying. then laughing. then YELLING at me. she grabs my arm, throws me in the car and proceeds to drive me around to 3 of her friends’ houses to show them, and i think to ridicule me. she made me go into town and have dinner with her.
all the while i am starting break out with acne or hives or something… and i can’t get the hair off. it’s “bonded” to my scalp. and it’s beginning to become sore between my pulling and the allergies.
we go home, i run up to my room. lock the door and begin crying hysterically. mom starts screaming. she thinks that i am going to kill myself.
so she calls the Wall Township Police.
they break down my door. it’s 2 guys i went to high school with – cute ones of course. 2 of them. two that i’d had crushes on for 3 years. i HADN’T planned on killing myself, but there i was fantasizing about making a leap for one of their guns to put myself out of my misery. but i didn’t.
I made it through the night. had to cut my hair off. so it wouldn’t touch my face. ah, but the glue and the rest of the hair was still stuck to my head.
mom drove me back to the Ocean Township Hair Replacement Center where for 8 hours straight, 9 women (including my mother) sat around my head with empty hot glue guns and melted the hair off of me. yes. i swear to God. on top of the allergic hives, the pimples, the swollen eyes and nose, i was now being burnt by glue guns in my scalp and on my ears.
the cost for the “Hair Recovery”? $950
great. and i still had to sit with olive oil on my head covered by a plastic bag for 4 days as i picked out the leftover glueballs witha lice comb.
after that, i learned patience. and i grew my hair…. on my ownShare on Facebook
hey… so, all y’all know that i wound up driving over 1200 miles from Los Angeles to Denver for MINI and their MINI Takes The States gig… that was an amazing experience.
What else has been going on for me this summer? Not a whole hell of a lot.
I started the new day job on June 30th and have been working there Monday through Friday and then I’ve been wiped out on the weekends… okay, maybe not “wiped out” so much as depressed about my weight and not really wanting to show my face in public. Yeah, that sounds about right.
Today I’ve started a new Fat Off… see, up top in the nav? The GiggleFatOff? rollover it and click… it’s going to have my stats and all my fatty fatty whinefests and all that good stuff.
What else? I launched WhitneyCummings.com a couple of months ago… she’s just been awesome… very funny chick.
I’m in the midst of redesigning the Union Landing Restaurant’s website… it’s going to be lovely once I launch it. I promise.
Gigglemom was only in the hospital once this summer, which was a good thing… although, a few days ago, she dropped her lighter on the ground and bent over to pick it up and snapped her back again, so, I’m thinking that I’ll probably have to drag her back and forth to a pain doc soon enough since it seems to be getting worse.
what else? sorry to say, I just have been plugging along and doing the work thing as I said. Keeping my clients as happy as possible and laying low.
Who knows… maybe next summer I’ll be a social butterfly again… after I shed my fat cocoon that I’ve been sporting.Share on Facebook