It's Plumhead! by Grace M. Baxter, June 4, 1999
	I've never seen such a colour. It's a combination of burgundy and purple ... with pinkish highlights. If you're guessing that I'm describing a new hybrid flower, you're wrong. Would you believe this is my new HAIR colour? (no snickering, please) It began a few weeks ago when I got the brilliant idea to colour my hair. After all, it's springtime now and I was feeling a little frowdy. (You women know what I mean.) So after perusing the aisles of hair products in many drugstores, I discovered something "new". Have you ever noticed how they try to put a new twist on something that's been around for a long time by giving it a new name? The description on the box said it would give me 'highs and lows'. "Ooooo, that sounds nice", I said to myself. And having light brown hair with blondish highlights, I imagined I'd end up with brown hair having some auburn highlights. Sounds good, right? My daughter Julia and I both agreed this was a good choice. In fact, while waiting in line at the cash, the woman ahead of me saw what I was holding in my hand and commented, "Oh, are you going to do your hair that colour?" I smiled and happily responded, "yes". She added, "Good for you! That should really look nice on you." Well, that's all I needed to hear. Hey, if a strange lady (whom I'll never see again) says it's gonna be good, who am I to doubt? So Julia and I left the store excited to get back to her place. We were going to do the 'girl thing' and Julia was looking forward to applying the new stuff to my rather ordinary-looking locks. I stared and stared at the picture on the box. Finally we were ready: Julia's hands were sporting the protective rubber gloves provided, and I ... wearing an old t-shirt, clutched a towel with which to to dab away any unruly splashes of goop. Julia took care to get all the hard-to-see spots, carefully applying the colour cream and blending it into my hair, covering every single strand. (It's so nice to have someone else reach the places I can't see.) When it was fully applied, I stood up and glanced in the mirror. I gasped. Julia said, "well, let's wait and see how much colour rinses off after we've timed it. Besides, the stuff always looks different than the final outcome." That made sense. I nervously watched the clock, wondering if we should shorten the required time given in the directions. But we both decided we should follow instructions and wait. Then came the rinsing. Leaning over the tub, I watched mounds of pink soapy suds plop into the tub. Of course, Jewel's comment of "Oh my, it certainly looks pink back here" didn't help. We continued rinsing. And rinsing. Jewel thought that since there was so much pink still coming out after gallons of water had poured over my head, it might be a good idea to shampoo. It couldn't hurt, right? More pinkish suds and then the water ran clear. Wrapping my head in a towel, I stood and faced the mirror. Time for the unveiling. "Eeeewwwww, it's pink" I shrieked. Julia, ever the optimist, said, "well, let's see how it looks when it's dry." I clung to that one last shred of hope but knew that dry pink would likely be lighter than wet pink. Actually, after careful consideration of the colour ... we both agreed that my new hair colour was PLUM. Oh great, now I'm a plumhead! How can I go out in public like this! Fortunately, it was now late in the evening as I headed home with my empty box and my plum hair. Under the cover of darkness I could enter my home without the stares of my neighbours. I planned on phoning the hotline first thing in the morning. Maybe there is a fix for this mess. The next day. I called the hotline and spoke with a cheerful woman who assured me that everything would be okay. All I have to do is visit the drugstore, explain my story to the cosmetician and have her call the hotline for instructions. Any products I'd need to "correct" my colour would be free. Small comfort, considering how terrible I felt. Before going to the store, I decided to take my mind off my hair by working at my computer for awhile. Later in the afternoon, my sister showed up at my door, wanting me to go for a bite to eat. She started explaining: "Hi, I was bored and thought maybe you'd like to go with me for some chicken wings and" ... (gasping) she noticed my hair and blurted, "Oh NO ... your hair! ... It really IS plum! Oh sister, what are you going to do? It's AWFUL." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was kind of funny. Then she added, "And you were worried about the bad cut you had a few weeks ago? That was nothing compared to this!" This line of talk continued for a few minutes until she convinced me that I should forget about it for awhile and go get something to eat. The place she picked was on the outskirts of town, so I probably wouldn't see anyone I knew. But I did notice her glancing at me every now and then in the car. I asked whether it looked any better in natural daylight. With a giggle she said, "not really, sist." Then, on the way home, my sister suggested we drop into our favourite home accessories store. There's always so much loveliness to see there. I hesitated, remembering my hair, and she tried to assure me by saying, "I wouldn't worry about that ... some people pay good money to get that colour!" Somehow, it didn't help to know that. Browsing around the store was fun. I could let my imagination go free and pictured certain things in my own home. (I'm still trying to establish a style theme.) But suddenly I noticed that saleswomen were following me. Hmmm, they never used to do that in this store. No matter what I stared at, there was a salesperson right there to comment about it, or ask if I needed any help. I squeezed through a narrow opening to get to the pictures and mirrors. The salesperson must've noticed I was now looking at some expensive items and was right there to 'assist' me. Was it my imagination, or were they more concerned than usual at this Plumheaded customer taking an interest in their wares? I immediately concluded that "they probably think I'm a smog." (Smogs are undesirable "n'ere-do-wells" who don't understand a thing about style, fashion, or cleanliness.) I mentioned my uneasiness to my sister. She said, "On no, dear ... I'm sure it's nothing to do with your hair. They're probably just trying to be helpful." Hmmmm, I wonder. The store had many beautiful mirrors and the displays were captivating. Suddenly I looked beyond the frame of a mirror and saw my reflection. My heart sank. This is NOT me -- not what I'm supposed to look like. As we left the store, I was a little sad. I decided to wait until tomorrow to face the cosmetician at the drugstore. ...to be continued...