The Price of Beauty

I colored my hair last night, not because I’m graying or anything (I am but I don’t care), but because what the hell else was there to do? And I have colored my hair for years with no problem, just so you know, but I don’t know what happened last night.  All I know is, I took a breath and I swear, the fumes were so strong that I think I scorched my fucking throat. I’m not even kidding…7 hours later, I still felt as though I was in a house fire or some shit.  I need oxygen, pronto.

Given that I’ve been aware for some time now about the positively hostile amount of chemicals they allow in everything from our food to our cleaning supplies, you’da thunk I would have used something relatively non-toxic on my head, since it’s so close to my brain.  But since they don’t really color as well (meaning they don’t strip your hair within an inch of its life and then deposit a nice light shade in the form of poison onto your hair shaft – ha ha, i said shaft, Beavis) noooo, I had to go for the Clairol hazardous waste hair coloring, and I’m pretty sure it stripped the lining out of my goddamn esophagus.  I’m gonna take what’s left and see if I can clean my car battery with it.

So, right now I can’t breathe very well.  I’m not kidding; it actually hurts a little when I swallow or talk.  Still.

But wow, my hair looks fucking fabulous! And you know what? The scorched throat voice? Kinda sexy!  Maybe I’ll end up sounding like Suzanne Pleshette.  If you don’t know who she is, yes, I’ve just told you that I’m older than Methuselah (you probably don’t know who he is either, do you). Stop being so lazy and look it up; I gave you a link, for God’s sake.  I don’t know if you can hear her voice anywhere but it was sultry smoker voice to the max; as a matter of fact she died from lung cancer.

Fuck.

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