My mom started my modeling career when I was about 18 months old. I started out doing Gerber and baby formula print ads. Eventually, after learning to talk, I was picked to advertise Welch’s grape fruit juice, represent some children’s hospital, even sang the Oscar Myer song in attempts to sell more bologna. To this day, the only way I can spell bologna is by singing the song.
Before every audition my mother would spend a countless amount of time on fixing my hair, which I am sure amounted to no more than10 strands. She always had me stand right in front of her, mirror in front of me, and as she was fixing some new coiffure, she’d repeat over and over, “hair makes the woman.” I never really gave this a second thought until last week, while working the front desk at Carter Barns, I decided to experiment with my hair. Corey didn’t have anyone coming in until later in the afternoon and offered to add red highlights to my hair, which at time sounded like an awesome idea. It was the worst experience ever. From the scorching water he used to wash my hair to the burning sensation I felt as soon as he left red hair dye in my hair for over an hour, the whole process was a nightmare. The results were far worse, as you can see from the pictures.
As soon as Corey finished styling my hair, I was on the phone with Van Michael requesting an emergency appointment with my regularly scheduled hair stylist. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for change. I rarely have the same hair color twice. But I definitely cannot pull off the bright red. And people treated me differently. Usually men are all so very sweet to me and cant do enough for me, and women are typically way bitchy with me (which I have now learned to take it a compliment). However, with me looking like a crazy punk, strangers perceived me to be someone entirely different. Men were extremely rough with me, talking to me like I was druggie girl who didn’t amount to much. Women tried to avoid eye contact with me but just as they think I wasn’t looking, I caught them stealing glances at my head. I even got approached by an elderly woman with a hunchback selling tickets to the circus. She said I looked like I loved clowns. I’m deadly scared of clowns.
So, I got my hair fixed thanks to my hair stylist genius, Ron Rock. It’s not totally back to normal (it’s a million times darker than I had it before) but it’s a million times better than what Corey did to me. Next month I’m going back to Van Michael and to add the lighter highlights around my face…and to add more 20 more pieces of hair to my head. Finally, I can go through life with thick hair. Can’t wait!
Loves!
mer
