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Scare in the hair

Note to self: The next time my wife comes to me bearing gifts of hair dye and a "How hard can it be?" attitude, I'll start knocking out walls in my house. It'll be easier to deal with.

For my wife - a beautiful *ahem* blonde, hair has long been a sore spot. The cut is not good. The color is not right. It's curly and frizzy, or it is straight and blah.

I think our wedding vows even contained the caveat: "In good hair and especially in bad."

But she's always been secure enough in her Obsessive Coiffing Disorder to seek professional help. She makes appointments every six weeks or so to get the works - and the week leading up to that appointment is always a test of that wedding vow.

So I was more than a little surprised - and absolutely apprehensive - when she asked that I help get to the "root" of the problem.

She had an important presentation the next day, and it was vital that we shift her hair from haphazard blonde to "honey blonde."

At least that's what the package said.

So I did my husbandly duty and massaged the concoction into her hair, concentrating around the scalp, just like she told me.

Twenty-five minutes later, we unveiled our creation and found that "honey blonde" had become "copper brown."

Cue panic. Add tears. And you have a recipe for a full-blown follicle emergency.

So we called 911.

Actually, we drove to 911. My mother - a McDuffie County dispatcher and former licensed cosmetologist - was on her overnight shift, and we caught her on a five-minute break.

Standing in the cold midnight air, Mom stepped in like a champ, saying Miriam's hair looked great (it really did) and using all the right buzzwords: "nice change," "sexy" and "you look better with that color hair."

Her consoling worked, and Miriam went to work the next day with her new "do." By the afternoon, she was upset more people hadn't even noticed the change.

But I wasn't surprised. It was all just another episode in my favorite soap opera: As the Hair Color Turns.

I'm always amazed at just how small our world really is.

Saturday, I spent some time (waiting on my wife's hair to change) at Retreat Day Spa in Columbia County. When we walked in, one of the first things I noticed was a framed picture of Cheryl Helmly and a jar for memorial donations to the Relay for Life. A touching tribute, I thought.

But that wasn't the entire story. Not even close.

See, Cheryl was planning to walk in Thomson-McDuffie County Relay for Life in memory of her grandmother, who died in December of cancer. Cheryl won't get that chance now, but folks like the ladies at Retreat are helping raise the money anyway.

It's just another example of how memories can live on and proof of how just one person can touch so many lives.



Web posted on Thursday, March 22, 2007













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