I’m suffering through a bad haircut at the moment. For some reason I’m having trouble finding someone since moving to this area who can cut my hair. I admit I was gifted with a crown full of cowlicks which, if left unmanaged, leave me looking like a sprung basting brush. Up until now this minor flaw has been manageable with the salons I’ve had available without having to consult a specialist. Truth is I’ve always secretly held to the belief when they were assembling me they sewed my hair on upside down because it grows in the opposite direction it logically should. I suppose if this is the worst thing I have to deal with, I’m in pretty good shape.
Over the years I’ve had some disastrous visits to the beauty salon, not always resulting in the touted end result…..beauty. While living in Alabama I discovered a small salon in my neighborhood. Needing a touch up, I called to make an appointment. It was a salon of the old school variety. Ladies in colorful rollers ducked in and out of a bank of hooded dryers lining one wall. The stylist who was to do my hair wore a handkerchief pinned to one lapel with a nametag attached reading “Min_ie”, the second “n” obscured by time she was to tell me when introducing herself. A well-lived in face had me guessing “Min” to be in her early nineties, though it could have been the cigarette dancing on her lower lip as she spoke responsible for the skin damage. Not that I am saying Min was incapable of doing a good job at her age. It was not the number of candles on her cake but her eyesight that concerned me. Her glasses were so thick the magnification could have picked up a mote of dust on the wing of a gnat. I’m just sayin. In spite of the obvious signs to proceed with caution, I found myself suggesting we veer away from my usual ash blonde and introduce some reddish tones to my hair. Sometimes my mouth turns off its receptor to my brain ad acts on its own accord. Either that or it was the lethal cocktail of all the chemical fumes mingling with the oppressive air inside the building. I believe I lost enough body fluid while under the dryer to make a new person.
Red, of all colors in the spectrum, is the hardest to remove once applied so I’m told. The red in my addled mind was a soft rather bronzy tone. The color I ended up with looked like I’d been left to ferment in a vat of port wine. Even my scalp was magenta. OMG. While it was being applied I commented on how dark the color appeared. I was assured once dry it would be much lighter. So not the truth. I drove home with the windows rolled up and a bag over my head. Hoping it wasn’t as bad as the mirror suggested it was, when my husband walked in the house he stood there speechless. Not a man normally at a loss for conversation, I felt this wasn’t a thumbs up. After a few moments of stunned silence he said, “what have you done”? Nope, not a thumbs up. In the end I had to pay to have highlights put it, and even at that it took several months for my hair to be able to be viewed without sunglasses. Sigh.
Another time I was job hunting in Southern California. Wanting to look my best I made an appointment at an upscale salon in the high rent district of the beach city I lived in at the time. Haircuts were pricey there, but I understood they provided wine and snacks so I was on board. Greeted by a perky receptionist I was asked to take a seat while my stylist finished his last client. Shortly, a tall painfully sparse man with black spiky hair and matching fingernails came around the corner. He could have doubled for Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands. Without being introduced, I knew he was heading for me. Telling me a had a perfect oval shaped face for short hair, he suggested whittling my do down and shaping it to my head. Okay. I hoped he wasn’t going to use both hands to snip. An hour later with most of my blonde hair decorating the floor by the chair, I found Annie Lennox looking back at me in my reflection. Ach. More wine please. The bill was $80. The saying “you got fleeced”, would fit nicely here.
No hair remaining and a job interview with a Texas based construction company two days away I was concerned. Having a short, blunt hair cut probably wasn’t going to be a selling point with a group of Texans notoriously supporters of big haired women. It’s kind of like going to a rodeo wearing stretch denims and a red felt cowboy hat with large white stitching. Not good. Thinking outside of the box I borrowed a short blond wig from a friend. Actually it looked real enough to be my own hair so I headed to the refinery for my interview and things went swimmingly. Offered the job I was instructed to show up the following Monday to begin what would be a three year stay working in as a Field Buyer. Along with my paperwork I was given a “dress code” which included steel toed boots and a hard hat. Oh-oh. Hard hats and wigs don’t necessary go together. I would assume every time you removed the hat the hair would naturally go right along with it. Soooo, I showed up for work the first day shorn and grinning. My new boss didn’t recognize me at first and after I’d been there a while I took some good natured ribbing about my original look. Thankfully hair has a way of growing out, so all was not lost, and this hair cut will do the same.
Tilapia is a favorite on our dinner table. This is crunchy and yummy served with a bed of Jasmine rice or your favorite side. Yum.
Sindhi Masala Tilapia Dry
4 tilapia fillets
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
2 tsp. tumeric powder
1 1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. garlic powder
1 tsp. ground fennel
1 tsp. garam masala
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. chili powder
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Oil for frying
Whisk together flour, spices, salt and pepper. Dredge fish in mixture.
Heat 1/4″ of oil over high heat until shimmering. Add fish to pan and brown on both sides until flesh is light and flaky. Serve with lemon wedges.