Don't Be A Beulah.

I feel the need to tell you about this vain, selfish woman I know, 

so that you can 1.) fall down prostrate on your knees in prayer for her

2.) never make the same mistakes she did and

3.) be witnesses to what really went down should her husband uncharacteristically flip out and take her to court for misuse of finances.

 

So. I'm just gonna go ahead a dish out all the gory details that I've received my "source", slap a name on her (to protect her non-innoncence) (Let's call her "Beulah") and by the end you will feel like you are next up for Sainthood after whoever is currently on the very tippy top of the Sainthood Waiting List.

***

1. Beulah had a very nice life. She was healthy and she had hair for which she was grateful. It was thick, dull brown and it was being slowly overtaken by wiry whites, for which she wasn't so grateful.

2. Approx. eight days before Christmas, and four days before a weekend with two fun grown-up Christmas parties in it, she looked in the mirror and felt she looked especially old and mousy and frumpy. She sprayed her person with self-tanner that was advertised to turn her into a sun-kissed bronzed goddess, but it didn't deliver. Still mousy. Still frumpy.  Beulah felt "blah".

3. She decided that hair color was the next best route to refresh her drabby appearance. To save both money ("sorry children! It's naval oranges for Christmas cause your mama needed to go back to her brown chestnut with golden highlights locks!") and time, she Googled "Best Home Hair Color 2013" whilst standing in Wal-Mart's hair color aisle. Unfortunately, inadequate wireless coverage made the results come up in an exceedingly slow fashion, so she only got the #1 brand, For African-American women on Oprah.com, leaving her on her own to guess what it said was best for "albino, brown haired" women.

Her eye caught the one go-to word that she always used to employ when describing her desired hair color to professional stylists back in the days of her youth and disposable income. "Caramel".

4. She bought and brought said product home, tucking it away for safekeeping. The next morning, she waited until her work-from-home husband announced he would be on a call for the next hour and she donned the complimentary rubber gloves and did the deed. For twenty five minutes she walked around in her old pajama's with a towel around her sturdy German neck, folding laundry and picking up toys smelling like a chemical plant. No one seemed to notice. 

5. Twenty five minutes later, Beulah rinsed and condition, dried and styled. It was "ok".

6.  Later on that day while gazing at her own reflection in her sexy minivan's rear view mirror, the afternoon sun fell on her newly colored locks and to her great dismay, instead of "Golden Caramel", "Brassy Tangerine Orange" bounced off in the reflection, nearly blinding Beulah with it's hussy hue. This could not, would not do. She wasn't sure how she would fix it, seeing as though she had done it herself to save on money, but she did know something had to be done.

7. Later that night, Beulah's dramatic eldest daughter fell on her wrist and one would have thought it was broken due to the wailing that ensued. Except she could move it freely. And wanted to go to the Church Christmas party that night. She wimpered overnight, and was still mentioning it in the morning, but wanted to go to school. Beulah dutifully wrapped an Ace Bandage around the sprained area and with a kiss for luck sent her on her way, saying if she could get an appointment at the doctor's that day she would just pick the afflicted one up at school for it. She intended to...

8....But then (as in, shortly after the door was closed at their departure) Beulah remembered her Miss Hannigan-esque hair situation. Show up to a classy dinner party looking un-brassed OR go the hassle of making a doctors appointment all to be told to simply rest and ice a sore wrist attached to a child with a propensity for drama and hypochondria. She took a nanosecond to contemplate. And then she did what any loving, nurturing woman in her shoes would do:

9. As she sat perched upon a local salon chair, waiting for round two of chemicals to seep into her follicles/skull and surely wipe the small cluster brain cells left clinging together for dear life in the corner of one of her spacious lobes, she was:

-Thankful that her stepson was home and available to watch the twins so she "went on an errand". To deliver Christmas toys to needy children. Or something like that.

-Hoping against hope the school nurse hadn't chosen to call her husband's cell number to say that her daughter's wrist was obviously, alarmingly broken and that she should be taken to the ER posthaste.

-Contemplating what piece of furniture she could quietly sell (same day) on Craigslist for the price of the hair fix and deposit into checkings like none of this had ever happened. Otherwise, it was a matter of crossing ones fingers that a certain person wouldn't notice this until after getting lucky, possibly several times. Beulah knew that even though she was tired, she was about to get even tireder, but that was a small price to pay for pretty hair that didn't resemble the vintage tinsel on her tree.

10. To combat intense feelings of guilt for so easily opting for corrective hair color (which did the trick!) over medical attention to her daughter's achy wrist, Beulah popped into the local elementary school and had them call her maimed offspring into the school office. In front of the office staff, she unrolled her daughter's ace bandage and had her conduct a series of waves, knocking motions and other wrist-involved gyrations to ease her mind and continue to prove non-breakage. She gave her a kiss on the cheek and patted her bottom, telling her to go back to class and "mommy will see you soon" (as the school guidance counselor was peering over her bifocals,  likely quietly taking notes of concern). 

***

There. 

I feel better. 

This information was too much to bear on my own.

Don't be a Beulah. Even though she KNOWS all is vanity here under the sun, she would do well to learn how to rise above it, or at least earn enough money to pay for the consequences of her pursuit of it. There are many lessons to be learned here, as mere observers. I'll let you derive your own, be it to stay away from boxed hair colors or choose medical over hair care. Or not to fixate on what does not really matter during a season where a lot of things really do. 

In other news, do you know of anyone who would be interested in an antique dry sink for, say $100?