Great Hair Day

Pamela Plumthorpe looked at her hair in the mirror for the fifteenth time since she got out of bed. 
It was as flat as a nail head. Patchy in places and lacking lustre, volume and completely absent of shine or life or anything resembling a human being. 

“It’s the lemonade and chocolate. The crisps too” she cried in exasperation. 

“Too much gunk and junk food!”

A hairbrush was flung into the air and hit terminal velocity as it took off out of her bedroom window. A neighbour’s cat howled and ran for its life. 

Still she gawked at her unruly frizzy hair and then bawled her eyes out. She decided bawling was the best thing to do in the absence of any other thought. Then she  pulled the tab of a can of beer. 

“I am getting on, I suppose” she said to herself as she slaked the beer. 

Still she sobbed and decided once again to wear her black beret. 
“No! It’s not fair! It’s only gone and shrunk in the wash”

She grabbed a headscarf then and with a sinking heart went downstairs and wondered if she would dare call into the hairdresser for advice.

“Yes! I will” 
“And why not?”

She had heard wonderful reviews of “Head High Salon” and the incredible work they performed. 

Hope is a powerful motivator and Pamela made her way into the salon.

“Yes, madam?”
“Have you an appointment?”

Her face blushed and she felt as if she would pass out. 

There in front of her was Mad Monica Winters. Her school bully. 

“I feel I have met you before?” Monica said suddenly. 

“A former client perhaps from my apprentice days?

“Thank God! She hasn’t connected me with the boarding school” she thought to herself. 

“No, no” Pamela replied 
“No appointment” 
“I just realised I must be elsewhere”

She made a beeline for the door and ran up the Main Street like a demented woman. 

“I can’t bloody believe it!”
“Monica Winters!”
“Please tell me she is not the owner?”
“I couldn’t bare it”
“No matter, I shall not be going anywhere near that place”

Making her way home she passed an old premises which was holding a flea market. 

“Those green bottles look interesting?”

She had spotted some fancy plastic bottles which would be ideal for her various shampoos she was experimenting with. 

“Two greens, one blue, three yellow and four orange ones please” she informed the stall attendant. 

“Brand new madam, these are factory surplus” 
“No shoddy goods here”
“Only quality and the best for you”

“ Now that comes to two pounds and a bargain at that”

Pamela smiled and thanked the man and gave him an extra pound for his nice manners. 

He in turn gave her an extra two green bottles. 

“A kindness returned madam”

As she was leaving the stall, another man, a very young man, much younger than her was approaching the stall. 

His appearance was unusual. 
His flamboyant purple jacket caught her eye. 
“How vivid” she thought 
“The young can get away with any article of clothing”

Then his hair caught her eyes. 
It was a mountain of beautiful black hair. He could easily cut it and still have volumes flowing from his scalp.
She felt she would explode into tears again. 

“Why am I unworthy of even a quarter of that kind of hair” she mused. 

“What I would give”

It was getting on in the day and she arrived home. 

Her first objective was to fill the different bottles with her shampoos. 
The green ones. 

“Let’s try these out first” she exclaimed as she filled the bottles with conditioner and shampoo and various hair tonics. 

The following day she was leaving her house to go for a coffee. As usual her trusted hair scarf was in place. 
She noticed a green bottle in her garden. 
“I don’t remember dropping that?”
She picked it up and went back into her bathroom to place the bottle there. 
Then in her flustered way completely forgot all about it. 

On her way home later that day she noticed the young man on her street. 
“Perhaps he’s renting a room in the area?”
“A student no doubt”
She couldn’t help but notice he was walking up her street as if he had lost something of value. 
His eyes were glued to the ground and gardens. 

She avoided eye contact. 
“He could be a bloody nuisance I bet”
“Young people would lose their heads if they weren’t fixed firmly to their shoulders”

She ran a bath and immersed herself into its warm tranquil depths. 

“Pure bliss!” 

After some time she took hold of a green bottle and soaked her hair for a lengthy twenty minutes. 
Her scalp tingled and felt energised. 
“Oh my goodness!”
“That’s a good sign!”
“Never before has my scalp tingled!”
“It feels positively alive!”

After some time she rinsed her hair and gently dried it. 

Was it her imagination or could she already discern a difference in her hair?

“This could be my Eureka experience!”
Then her bed beckoned and she fell asleep instantly and when she awoke she felt wonderful. 
Instinctively she felt her hair as was her usual habit. 

“What the -?” 
Her hair was in abundance! 
She ran to a mirror. 
A mountain of hair was on her head. In actual fact she needed a haircut. 

Within an hour her tresses were continuing to bloom. 
Pamela was excited, delighted, exuberant and full of immense joy. 
She could not believe this. 
Finally after all these years she had struck gold. The shampoo was a success. 
She didn’t notice that her hair was starting to exhibit a slight brown hue. 

She dressed herself then and decided she would style her hair and flaunt it in the Main Street. No more headscarf for her. And off she went. The envy of every woman’s eye was on Pamela’s scalp. A beautiful head of hair that would captivate any man’s eye. 

Her hair was growing still and now the slight green hue was turning a gorgeous bronze colour. 
How proud she was. How elated. How excited. 
“I am having a great hair day!”
“It’s my time to shine!”

Once again she went home and ran a celebration bath and immersed herself into the plush depths of tranquil warm water. Once again she shampooed and once again the tingling scalp made itself known. 
Then when she emerged from the bath she dried her voluminous tresses and put on her favourite bath robe. 
“How wonderful life is”

A knock came to her door then. With great confidence she opened the door. 

It was the young man? What could he want she thought. 

“Yes?”

“Excuse me, I do apologise and hope you can help me?”
She regretted opening the door now. 

“Now I don’t think I can help you”
“I want nothing from you”

“Please let me explain” he pleaded

“I lost a green bottle on this street”
“I am certain of it”
“I must find it and ask only if you by any chance have seen it?”

It dawned on her then. The green bottle she found in her garden and had placed in her bathroom. She had completely forgotten all about it. 

She became frightened then.

“Who are you?”
“What is in that bottle?”

“Have you found it” the young man said with hope in his voice. 

“I don’t know?” 
“Please I ask you again, what is in that bottle?”

He looked at Pamela and tried to reassure her. 

“My name is Tom. I am a botanical scientist. Just graduated with honours”

“Go on” Pamela said anxiously.

“That bottle contains an experimental plant elixir”
“It’s my own solution”
He said that part with pride. 

“It’s a nutrient to sustain plants throughout the harsh winter months”

“I fear a child may find it and perhaps drink it”
“I was careless”

Pamela realised this was the bottle she had shampooed from. It had to be. 

“Is it toxic or dangerous? she asked. 
She thought she might pass out. 

“Not to a plant no?” Tom replied.

“If ingested then yes but otherwise no, not in the least. 

She grew pale in appearance. 

“If one were to use it” she said in a whisper 

“Use it?” Tom replied and he looked then to Pamela’s scalp. Her hair was magnificent.

“Please say you have not used it in your hair?”

“I have done!” Pamela blubbered. 

“Am I in danger?”

Tom was staggered. 

“I suggest you stop using it immediately”
“If you feel sick then ring me and we will go the hospital immediately”

“Why should you accompany me?”

“I obviously know the chemical properties of the solution”

“Have you noticed any changes to your scalp?”

“No, none” Pamela lied out of embarrassment. 

“I tell you what” Tom said relieved at this statement. 

“Here is my number”
“Give me back the bottle and wash your hair out with regular shampoo”

“It doesn’t appear to have effected your hair”
“You have a beautiful head of hair”

Tom was handed the bottle and went on his way. 

Pamela burst out crying when he left. 
All the same her hair remained full and voluminous and indeed glorious for the rest of her days. 

She would walk down the street with her head held high and her beautiful tresses flowing in the wind like a majestic sail on an open ocean. 
Women would look, stare even, with envy. 

“That’s Pamela Plumthorpe!”
“Her hair is glorious”
“Some people are born lucky”
“What I would give to have a head of hair like that”
“You could sculpt her hair”

Pamela walked that Main Street for years after and never again wore a hat or a headscarf. Her hair was everything. 
Her great hair day had  become a great hair life.