CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, I was up before Jean, and dressed in a powder blue pullover and plaid skirt. I sat in front of the makeup mirror and con- templated my hair. It was well over my ears by now, and hung over the jewel neckline of my sweater. I tried to comb it in various styles, but without any training, it came out as before, shapeless. Jean came in at that point, seeing me in the open doorway.

"Don't worry about that, Brenda, I've got the solution for you."

"What, wear a wig the rest of my life."

"No silly," she said smiling, "Wait till after breakfast and we'll go talk to a pro. I'll have you all ready for the young doctor, by tomorrow night!"

We had breakfast and then very cryptically, she loaded us into the car, after first instructing me to wear something with buttons. I slipped into a white blouse and the pink sweater, and quickly followed her.

We drove for several minutes until we arrived in front of a small, suburban beauty salon. After entering, the receptionist confirmed the appointment that Jean had made for the both of us. I was led to a separate booth and instructed to remove my blouse. Then I put on the smock that the shop provided and waited. Within a few minutes a lovely Japanese lady came, and in perfect English asked me what I wanted done. I told her that I wasn't at all sure, so she got out the style book, for my length of hair.

I told her that I wasn't too particular, but that I wanted something soft, and not layered as I was hoping to let my hair grow below my shoulders. Then on inspiration, I said

"How do you think that I would look as a blonde?"

"Probably very nice, your hair is light anyway and it wouldn't take too long to bleach it out. Do you want to take a fling at it."

"Yes."

"O.K. then, here goes!"

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