The End of an Haira

Coming this Tuesday to a head near me: HIGHLIGHTS.

It's been more than two years; I really think I've earned it. I've paid my dues and learned many a valuable lesson along the way. For instance, I learned that people will still be friends with me even when I do not have shiny, beautiful, golden blonde hair. I also learned that, contrary to what I once believed, artificial hair color is in fact not crucial to my survival. And this afternoon when I called to make my appointment, I learned perhaps the most valuable lesson: Life sucks without Marshall.

Marshall is my fabulously gay friend from high school. Here's a picture of him that I find wildly appropriate:

Not only is he talented at multiple-ball juggling (oh, COME ON!); he also happens to be the best colorist on earth. He makes my hair sing. (On a related note, in addition to being a hair-gician, he has a voice like Brian McKnight/Josh Groban/Jesus Christ*.)

Because I was so frequently voluntold into being his guinea-head-pig while he was in hair school, Marshall bestowed upon me the greatest gift a gay man could give a woman: full highlights at an 80% discount. Oh, the memories...driving into rich Dallas and sending my beat up '99 model Chevy Malibu off with a valet who seemed confused as to how I got there and concerned as to whether I'd be able to afford to give him a tip; sitting in the chair listening to the latest gay-ssip while Marshall worked his magic; leaving the salon feeling a little sad that this calibur of hair was being wasted on the patrons of the fast food restaurant where I worked...this hair deserved to be famous! This hair could cure cancer! This hair...has since all been chopped off.

Marshall and I had one last, beautiful moment together a few days before my wedding, and then I was off to The Land of the Unkempt, where I would watch with no small amount of pain as my hair slowly withered and died. (And when I say "died", I mean "turned brown".)

And so it goes that today when I was quoted nearly $100 for a full highlight, I cried a single, shimmering tear for the loss of my dearest, gayest friend, Marshall. (He's still alive...he's just too far away to do my hair, which means he might as well be dead.**)

*I'm just guessing Jesus Christ would have a fantastic singing voice...I mean, he IS the Son of God.
**JUST KIDDING, MARSH! I'm glad you're not dead!