Babies and Black Hair

I wrote this on Friday afternoon, but was interrupted by a phone call from Narc, so I didn't get to finish it or post it until now... (-Hyde- 1/29/06)

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I've been unsettled. Well, I suppose if you read this blog, that's fairly obvious. Unsettled... What does that even mean? When was the last time I was settled? I don't even know anymore (May, 2004). But I've been thinking about my hair color a lot. And I've been thinking about babies... mine, GoldenFinch's and VJ's.

Babies:

Mine: A few weeks from now I would have had a baby. Would have... There are no thoughts in my head on that matter-- only a dull strange feeling in my chest that wants to become a thought, but won't. I'm numb and blank. Each time that thought tries to poke its head up, like a tulip through the earth, it grows terrified of the magnitude that's revealed and it retreats back into my heart. I saw some bunches of tulips outside a deli on the Upper West Side the other day. I was surprised. Tulips in January? Oh yeah... I guess there are winter tulips. Suddenly I feel like I can't breath.

GoldenFinch's: GoldenFinch found out she was pregnant about a month after I did. I spoke to her last week and all she can talk about is baby names. I haven't seen her since July, although she's due in April. She must look pregnant, although I can't picture it. When I met GoldenFinch, we were 17. (Actually, I guess she was 18). She wanted to be a nun and move to a mountain-top and sing to God and the universe and write in her journal and dance in the fields and peel potatoes and shell peas all day long. Things have changed since then. I was supposed to go out and visit her this week, but I never made the arrangements. She lives about two hours out of Manhattan. Every time I talk to her on the phone she's tired. She said it's the pregnancy. I feel like I'm a bad friend for not visiting her. Her mother and sister are in Washington DC or Maryland or something... She doesn't have a best friend where she is. But something in me doesn't want to go. Uh oh. Suddenly, I feel like I can't breathe again.

VJ's: VJ's baby is a hypothetical. It doesn't exist, but she wants to have one. She recently decided that she's going to start trying for one with her boyfriend. I think she's lost her mind. (VJ--if you're reading this, sorry for putting it so bluntly, but I already told you I think you need to think about this a lot more). I've also known VJ for ten years. She is one of the funniest people I know. When we met were both smart, outlandish and perpetually pissed off at the world (and at our sorority). It as the perfect formula to sprout a slew of strange inside jokes, the catalyst for adventures that have irrevocably changed me. VJ is amazing with kids--better than anyone I've ever seen. She will be a wonderful mother one day. I'm worried about her though. I think she's lonely. I don't think she should etch this moment of loneliness in stone with a baby. Of course, I'm not certain, as I don't have one, but I'm rather sure that life gets a lot less flexible when there's a baby around. And VJ and I are both sorely unfinished projects. We need as much flexibility as possible. Does that make any sense?

Ughhh... I can't think about babies anymore, and yet I can't stop thinking about them right now. I used to love to look at babies. I wanted one desperately. I still want one eventually. In fact, it's one of the only three goals I have for my life-- love, babies and a house on the water. But now when I think of them, again-- I can't breathe. There's no other way to describe it.

Black Hair:

In May, I dyed my hair black.

It was black, black, black! I wrote. Stark raven black! I'm ready to kick ass. No more heartbreak. No more whining and pining. I'm a new woman!

That weekend I met Narc and CouchSleeper at the Tavern.

Narc and CouchSleeper both commented on my dark hair, asking why I dyed it black. Well, I was still in truth-telling mode, so I decided to be plain.

"Because I have a fucking broken heart, that's why!" I told them. "And I needed a change. And I'm not going to take anyone's shit anymore."

Well, that was all true. But this week, when I made my resolution to end things with Narc, I suddenly no longer wanted to have black hair. (Speaking of my resolution. I know it seems like I've tossed it aside. Especially as I have plans to go to the opera tomorrow with him-- my tickets, not his. But I haven't. I haven't forgotten it. I just haven't figured out how to do it yet. The resolve is still there, but I have no action to match it. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone except for me.) Anyway, I didn't want black hair anymore.

My natural hair color is a medium brown with a reddish tint. Since I was sixteen, I've been dying it some shade of red/reddish brown (save for a year with B when it was black and the past 8 months it's been black right now). I wanted to look like myself again-- my red headed self. When I first met Narc, my hair was a lighter red than usual. Our hair used to blend in the hair brush. It still strikes me as strange to see black hair in the hair brush.

There was no time to waste! There was an action I could take! Yes, a clear path, straight ahead! Finally something within my control! Change yourself, Hyde! You have agency! Go to the drug store! Buy a box of color! Do it now! Quit hemming and hawing! Remake yourself! Reinvent! Redo! Redefine! You are in control!

Yes, it was urgent. Very, very urgent. On Wednesday I bought the color. I chose a medium-light brown, figuring it would come out reddish just from the lightening. I eagerly tore into the box in my bathroom. Chemical to chemical...shake, apply. Wait. Forty minutes. Longer than recommended. Rinse, condition, blow dry, check.....

BLACK.

My hair was still black.

This, I would not stand for. No! Not one bit. It wasn't fair! I HAD to fix it.

Back to the drug store. This time I selected a hair color DESIGNED to go over black hair. Guaranteed change! It was a major-lightener. No fucking around with the "natural" or "modest" stuff.

Back to my bathroom. Chemical to chemical...shake, apply, wait. Forty minutes. Tick, tick, tick. I was talking to NDN. He was sitting on my floor, I was sitting on the toilet lid, trying to keep my cat from jumping up on the sink. Again, I left it on for longer than recommended. Rinse, condition, blow dry, check......

BLACK.

So, my hair wouldn't change. Well, actually, this time the roots changed. I now had reddish blonde roots merging into stark black ends. A total mess!

I decided that I had to put matters into professional hands. I made an appointment to have it double processed the next day.

Sitting under the glowing lights of the hair salon, draped in a black robe, three people ran their fingers through my hair. They pulled out individual strands, inspecting, feeling, consulting. One of them used to be a regular at Cheers. It was funny to have her working on me now.

"We could strip it," she said, "but I don't know if your hair can take it. We'd have to do some test strands first. I don't want your hair to break."

"I don't want my hair to break either!" Now I was worried. "If there's a possibility of ruining my hair, don't bother stripping it at all!"

"Well, we could just re-darken your roots and put in a half head of highlights," she said. "That would start to redden it again and soften it up a bit. Then you can come back in two months for some more and do it gradually."

"Okay. Let's go with that."

4 hours and an exorbitant amount of money later, it was time for the big reveal. But there I sat-- dark headed. Yes, there was a slightly reddish tint, but it crowned a head of hair that was still very, very black. (Plus she cut it an inch or two shorter than I would have liked. I'm always trying to grow it long, long, long!)

So, the moral of the story? I'm not quite sure, but I feel like it's symbolic. I feel like my hair-troubles are somehow a metaphor for something much larger. It's telling me that there are no easy fixes and that I have to be patient. That I can't affect change with a magic wand. That I don't have total control, but that I have some control and that I have to work with what I have.

Anyway, since I wrote this, a lot has happened. Nothing that will surprise you all. Just more disappointment from Narc. But I'll post about that later. I simply don't have the stomach for it right now.

-H-