November 20, 2003
on becoming a blonde for spiritual reasons
My dear hairdresser has had such problem with my wish to be blonde, blonder, blondest - wait until she has to install the white streaks that I am planning next. She doesn't understand that my hair is part of my quest for light and not a fashion statement, though fashion statements are not beyond me. She greets me, "hi blondie", looks doubtful, hesitates, and tones (not the vibrational, the liquid). I take these as signs of her sweet disapproval to which I have not succumbed. I am very insistant. If she tones me too much, which has happened twice, I come back the next day and make her lighten up. I bring recycled tapes from Esther Hicks, with which to plie her. She just doesn't want me to be brassy. Last time, she bleached my roots white. We're getting there.