Hair We go Again...

MJagger had her husband (Officer Friendly) talk to Harry, my personal hair goddess, when he was in for his most recent hair doings. Officer Friendly did a great job relaying the hair-inspired comments from his lovely wife, telling Harry that I was in need of looking like Jackie Warner, Queen of L.A. Lesbian Chic.

MJagger and the wife had both previously suggested that "your hair can do that!" and so I was ready for a big change. (I hate talking to my hair lady about my hair--after all, I pay her to be in charge of it--so, it was a big relief that MJagger and hubby had taken care of this before I even got near the salon.) By the time I was sitting in the chair, Harry was all a-glow, ready for hair styling for the rich and famous. "We're going to go much lighter," Harry sings out with glee. I am all for this, as I love hair change and since Lisa Rinna hair is SO yesterday. Before I knew it, I was sporting the Jackie-do, complete with expensive hair products and phenomenal abs. (Okay, so I lied about the abs. I still look like a flabby chicken. But, the hair looked awesome).
The photo of Jackie (the one with the black bra) illustrates how my hair did indeed look.

(And, no--I cannot do this exercise being demonstrated by Jackie but I do own a set of weights, so that should count for something.)

I go back to work with my fabulous new hair and it begins. I work in a town not used to anything but mullet-sporting lesbians and straight girl highlights. You'd think I'd be used to people staring at my hair (after all, I've done everything from the blonde Mohawk to the 12 inch tail), but I'm out of practice. No one stares at Lisa Rinna hair, but they sure do stare at Jackie Warner hair. At work, it's easy to see that people (1) don't know what the hell to think, and (2) that they do not like this scary hair. (Well, except MJagger, who professed her love for the 'do.) It doesn't stop me from being giddy with delight. The mentally ill clients are blunt (which I love and prefer) and say things like, "what the hell happened to your hair?" and "Why does your hair stand up like that?" Co-workers just stare and try to talk to me without mentioning the hair, but their eyes keep going up to the swoop. Like I don't know!

Forget work--let's talk about going out to eat. The wife (who likes the hair) and I decided to try out a new Mexican restaurant in town. I forget that I have this "weird" hair, so I'm kind of confused at first when I see people staring at me. I'm thinking, "Do I have spinach enchilada on my face?" when it dawns on me. It's the hair! This warms me to no end. I am delighted and smile through the rest of the enchilada. Happy Cinco de Mayo, indeed! You go, Harry! We have succeeded! (Well, you succeeded--I just walk around looking good.)

(For illustration purposes, I've included this photo of Jackie working with a lucky client, as this is what my hair looked like during the Mexican food consumption, albeit not so blonde. Delightfully messy and chic. Growl!

I pay a lot of money to look like this, so, when you see me and my new swoop, go ahead and stare. It's all good. If I ever get a body like Jackie's (after all, I'm only like 7 years older than her and 4 years younger than Madonna), I'll include photos of my rockin' abs. Don't hold your breathe, though. I may just stick to eating enchiladas and walking the dogs a half-mile twice a day and buying copious amounts of hair products. Take that, you mullet-sporting lesbians! L.A. Chic Addi is on the move....and out to save you from your mullets.....