The Platinum Monster.

Some women will agree that how good you look equals how good you feel.  

And alternatively, others may think that how good you feel equals how good you look.


But I believe that we all would agree on 2 simple facts.  That every woman wants to look good .....and every woman wants to feel good.


For me there comes a certain confidence when I look good.  When I'm all dressed up, makeup applied flawlessly, jewellery worn perfectly, and red lipstick painted on JUST RIGHT.  Those are the moments in which I shine.  

Now let's stop for a brief second and compare to those moments when I definitely do NOT shine.  

1) The moments when I first wake up and look like a cross between Mickey Rourke and Blanche from the Golden Girls.

2)  The days at the cottage when my face has not seen makeup for an eternity and I realize how far apart my eyebrows are in comparison to how close together my eyeballs are  :/

3)  And last but not least, those moments, when my hair is so unbleached, roots so out-grown, hair so greasy and so unkept, that it looks like a family of squirrels could be living in it.  

Now....I'll allow for items #1 and #2.....at least for a few days.....maybe even a week.  But the HAIR???  THAT'S where I draw the line folks.



My platinum hair has sort of become my staple, and I've been bleaching it since before university.  Which according to my delusional sense of age has only been a few years.


But those "few years" have created a bit of a platinum monster in me.  For since I have gone white.....I have no desire to go back to my natural roots.  You know what they say after all ...."once you go white, you never go back........."

Wait a minute.......  

That saying doesn't seem right......?

Oh well!   Bottom line is that I LOVE my platinum hair and I try my very best to stay on top of that disgusting mouse-poo coloured tone that is for some reason always trying to sneak back into my life.  Argh!!

But when it comes to staying on top of my hair appointments, well, I just don't.  

Because here's something you should know about me.  I am a procrastinator.  

I know...... that's hard to believe, but alas my friends, it's true.

And I will leave the booking of my hair appointment to the VERY last minute.   That moment when my lovely 5-year old daughter Molly, without fail, always kindly reminds me that, "yo haiw loots lite a poke-u-pine's needows.  Blat on the bottom and white on da top". 

I say thank you Molly......... but walk away from her rolling my eyes.  She could care less though.  After a comment like that, you'd think she'd be slightly remorseful.  But no.  She goes right back to playing with her Evie and Mal dolls from the Descendents .....who for some reason ALWAYS have perfect hair :/

But I, unfortunately cannot move on so quickly after her very hurtful and dreadful comment.  In fact,  I run to the bathroom immediately after and pull my hair down at the roots to dissect how bad they actually look.  

When the moment comes that I truly DO look like a 'poke-u-pine', then I make that quick phone call to my good friend and hair goddess.  

The woman who turns me from the ugly duckling into to the glamorous Polish Swan that I really am  ;) 


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"Oh babe!  I'm so sorry!  I'm booked solid for the next 3 weeks!  Why didn't you call me sooner???"


GASP!!!!


It couldn't be!!! My hair goddess was UNAVAILABLE??!!!  What??  How was this possible???  Weren't hair stylists supposed to be at your beckon call??  What kind of world was I living in if my hair would remain unbleached for another week?  Maybe two??

Ok.  No need to panic.  I would survive this.  

Maybe I could go another 3 weeks without bleach.  I mean....it wouldn't be that bad would it??  

Maybe I could pull off that gorgeous ombre look....ya know.....where girls go and purposely get their hair died platinum only at the ends, but then they leave the roots super dark??  I was pretty much doing that without even trying!  

Yes!  That's what I would do!

And then when people would ask me "who did your hair??"  I'd say "Oh, just something I did all by myself, isn't it FABULOUS!!?"

And then I would be the talk of our little town of Barrie!

I'd end up being that girl that would walk down the aisle in the Real Canadian Superstore and people would just FAINT from how striking and beautiful my hair was.

And as I waltzed into my bathroom one more time to look at my hair and imagine myself as the beautiful ombre queen, I was instead hit with the image of a girl who looked like a cross between a zombie and a wild coyote.

NOPE!  Time to find a new hairdresser!


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It took me 3 days, but I FINALLY found someone to do my hair!!

Sure, I found her on Kijiji.  And sure she sounded like an old trucker when I called to book my appointment with her.

But she lived only 15 minutes from me, her ad was quite professional, and she was a specialist in hair extensions.  

I figured that if you could sew or glue tiny little hair follicles together, you could pretty much do anything in life.

She did have a few sketchy customer pics on her advertisement though.  My coworker laughed for a solid 20 minutes when she saw a pic of an 80-year old with very sparse hair and curls.......but I figured that that was probably her only old customer.  The rest were probably young and gorgeous with long, luscious locks.

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The day of my appointment, as I drove down the street, I was a teeny bit concerned at the quality of houses I was passing.  Most of them were run-down with absolutely ZERO landscaping (and you guys KNOW how I feel about my lawn!).  But nonetheless, I felt it imperative to not judge, and hope for the best.

I was sure that her home would be lovely and her home salon would be stunning.


But as I pulled up to #51, I became slightly concerned.  The lawn was atrocious.  I sighed, but once again reminded myself not to judge.  Although I did find it alarming that if she could cut hair, why couldn't she figure out how to cut grass??  But again...I WASN'T GOING TO JUDGE.

I tried to find the doorbell, which I soon found under layers of duct tape, so decided it was just best to knock on the door.


After some screaming and stomping that I heard within the home (to which I desperately tried not to look too concerned or have a scrunched up brow when she saw me for the first time)....... the door finally opened.


And when it did....... I did EVERYTHING in my power to hold my jaw up and not let it drop.





......to be continued.....