Purple Hair, Concrete Masquerading As Ice And How To Achieve A "Witchy" Look Without Much Effort

 11 December 2020

Story #1011

R. Linda:

Oh, me poor Mam. Yesterday, she had an eye appointment for an annual checkup. She had spent a lot of time on her hair because she had not been to the hairdresser since last January, and then when she couldn't stand the look anymore, she made an appointment this August, but that turned out to be a one-time trim. Her regular hairdresser was attending the funeral of a family member who had passed away from Covid 19, so Mam had another hairdresser. Because she had not been to the hairdresser for many months, her silver strands began to take over, and by the time August rolled around, she had four inches of silver, the rest her usual platinum blond.

The hairdresser didn't feel like working, and since Mam wasn't one of her regulars, she talked her into a purple toner to even the blond with the silver. Mam said that her hair looked completely silver in the hair salon, and this quick fix would do. She also left with a good amount of purple toner and purple toner shampoo to keep it that way since she wasn't coming back for another appointment until the spring of 2021, and that was a maybe. 

When she got home, I had to do a double take because I thought I was seeing you, R. Linda, walking in the house with your purple do. But it wasn't. It was me, apple-cheeked, no longer grey-haired little Mam. It was me, apple-cheeked, purple-haired little Mam. She was livid when she saw the purple was very in your face. 

"I spent all dat monee on tonah and sich because I taught it would supply me fer a long time. Dere be no way I be usin' dis stuff."

Looks more blue than purple, but it WAS purple

Well, she hasn't been back to the salon because now she be growing the silver strands out. Why? Everyone in this house told her she looked much better with silver hair. Yup. And she believed them.

As I said, she went to great pains to fix her now five-and-a-half inches of silver hair and mix it with platinum to hide the two-toned look. 

So, back to the appointment day. We had our first Nor'easter of the season on the weekend, and the snow was followed by ice. No matter how often I shovelled, I couldn't keep up because of the ice. I had cleared all the cars of the snow and ice as I could, but overnight . . . So, to save her a fall, I went out and started her car the following day, turning on the seat warmers, the heater on high, and the defrosters full blast.  

She got ready to go for her eye appointment, and the hair was just so, and you couldn't tell it was two different colours. She was happy to go out to a warm car, just getting in and driving off. Because it was very cold out, not much ice and snow had melted off her car. As it turned out, the water dripping off the back of her car formed an ice bump behind it. 

She went out and found ice and snow on the back window, the top of the windscreen and the side mirrors. Taking a scraper, she dug at the ice, breaking the scraper and losing her temper. I didn't hear her leave so I looked out and saw her, so I ran back out and told her to get in the car I'd scrape. The ice from the windscreen had accumulated and hardened in the wiper well, and it was like concrete! I had a dickens of a time breaking it up. Me fingers were like claws from the cold, and I looked in at her fiddling with the climate control, looking like a hot mess. 

She got out all hot and sweaty, telling me she left everything going because she needed to go, but the heat was intense in the car and doing not a lot outside it. I agreed, but I chipped the ice off the side mirrors with the scraper handle or what was left of it. She got back in and put it in reverse, but she couldn't get over the newly formed ice hump.

I got her back out, and I got in and rolled the car back and forth until I finally got it clear of the ice hump. She got back in and tried to open her console, but her hands (like mine) were frozen. I shouted at her what she was looking for, and she pointed to her head. 

"Me hairbrush!"

I went to Tonya's car, got her hairbrush, and gave it to her. She had tried to open the driver's side window, but it was frozen shut, so she opened the door to take the brush, and I was getting blasted with the hottest air this side of July.

"I look like a witch," she said to me. All I need is a hat!"

Meanwhile, jacket-less, gloveless me was becoming a frozen block of ice and sniffles.

She tried running the brush through her now knotted and very frizzed-up hair. The result was less than conducive to a coiffed Cinderella and more the witch with the poison apple. I was trying hard not to laugh and disguised me chuckles with cold shaking because I knew it wasn't funny TO HER, but to me well . . . 

She drove off in a blast of heater and defroster. It must have been a trip. When she returned looking even more witchy than before, all she could say was, "I hate winter!"

Gabe

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