I have always considered myself an inventor. I see a problem and right away I’m trying to develop the fix for it. When my husband started seriously losing his hair, I was completely committed to finding a “cure” for him…not that he asked. I slathered more homemade concoctions on his head than you could ever imagine. I tried heat, cold, massage, saran-wraps, you name it. Once, after carefully examining his head, I was struck with a great idea. “You have a ton of blonde peach fuzz” I proclaimed with glee, “what we need to do is dye it so that it shows up better!” Off to the store I galloped to buy a box of dark hair dye. That afternoon, I forced him to sit at my ‘sink of wonders’ while I carefully applied the dye to his head. I can’t remember if I used a paintbrush or my fingers to spread the color across his scalp. At the appointed time, plus maybe an extra ten or fifteen minutes, I tilted his head under the faucet and began to rinse. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I had dyed his head..his actual skin..a very dark shade of chocolate brown. I turned the water hotter and faster and began to furiously scrub his poor old noggin, especially along the perfect, horizontal line I had created across his forehead. “Cindy, what the heck is going on?” He demanded to know, to which I’m pretty sure I answered “SHUSH!!!!” When I finally, reluctantly, let him stand up straight, I attacked him with a towel and continued to rub his head..all to no avail. He looked like a cheap boy Barbie doll with hair painted on his head like a helmet.
Nope, the whole thing wasn’t pretty. I can still hear him howling in the bathroom “How am I supposed to go to work looking like this?!!”
I’m quite sure that moment marked the official end of my anti- baldness program, and I quickly moved on to other pressing concerns like creating a better smelling litter box, working on my under-eye wrinkles and minding my own business.