TIM: Talk to me.
ME: It's just a haircut, Tim.
TIM: Well! I should think it's more than "just a haircut". You don't "just" do anything regarding your looks. Something as huge as this involves hours of pondering. Nothing is "just" anything when it comes to your appearance. It's all part of some big psychological breakdown.
ME: Through, Tim. Break-THROUGH, not down.
TIM: No. I was right the first time. I'll stand by that. But talk to me.
ME: Okay. You're right. I've been doing some thinking.
TIM: Which explains me showing up.
ME: Oh yea...and hello, by the way.
TIM: Thank you.
ME: Well, you know my hair. It's so thin...so dreadfully and comically thin.
TIM: Deborah, there's nothing funny about your hair except the creative ways it attempts to escape from your scalp. I've found it in the most creative places.
ME: What???
TIM: Your hair is on the dog. That's usually reversed.
ME: Ewwwww.
TIM: It's in the lint catcher on the dryer and it's threatening all of us with a house fire. The gagging sounds you hear at night is the shower hacking up a fur ball in the shape of a "D" for desperately shedding Deborah. Did you really think your husband only had allergies at night? In bed? Next to you? Your hair flies up his nose as you toss and turn! He sneezes and coughs trying to avoid inhaling your head!
ME: OKAY! I've got it. You've painted the picture. The graphics are clear.
TIM: You don't even want to know what the neighbors below are saying when you sit on the balcony and there's a slight breeze. Don't you ever hear that choking sound?
ME: Tim!!! I have feelings!!!
TIM: Sorry. Carry on.
ME: Anyway....gosh!...it's thin and frankly, it's silver. AND white. Most of the white is around my face, which is kind of cool. And the silver hair is the exact same color and texture of my Dad's hair, which is also kind of cool. So, I decided to make a big leap and just let it go. I'm got my final weave to help let the silver grow out; it's almost an inch now, and I cut off the long, strangly parts. So! I'm going tribal.
TIM: Tribal?
ME: Yep! I'm going to let it get healthy and silver and embrace my older, wise woman.
TIM: This should be interesting.
ME: Meaning?...
TIM: Exactly that.
ME: So....what do I do now?
TIM: We wait...and do exactly what your is going to do....grow.
2 comments:
This is the funniest Tim Gunn conversation ever! Good luck with the hair thing. I will be doing my roots when I am 95...I am hoping for a pill that you can take to make your hair grow in whatever color you wish.
Cindy...do you think that will ever happen? Will we be sitting in rocking chairs with our teeth in glasses popping "hair color" pills? Forget LSD, downers, or speed...we'll be on the "street" getting our hair-color fix...."hook me up, Antoine, my roots are showin' bad!"
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