Yesterday it happened in the produce section. I was squeezing a cantaloupe thinking “Harry would like this” and as I caressed the thing it occurred to me it felt like my puckered bald scalp. I put the cantaloupe in the grocery basket making a mental note to ask Harry to cut it. Then the curly parsley caught my eye just as the mist sprayer came on like a fire hose. I bolted for the crackers and biscuits aisle. Thank goodness Lynnie Oren came along. She was wearing the tam I knit with old Dozer’s fur twisted in the yarn.
“Let’s go down to Coated. I want to show you a jacket to match Dozer’s hat,” she said
We were at the end of the mall before I had time to back out. The end of the mall is where the hair salon is, and Coated is next door. The whole place was filled with that smell – the smell of hot hair. Lynnie was gabbing on and on and, yes, I agreed the coat and tam were a perfect pairing, and not for the first time I noticed she had earlobes like Dozer her dead Spaniel. She bought the coat then Lynnie left me standing outside of “Shafts Salon” inhaling the smell of blow-dried hair.
Sometimes I think I can still feel hair on my head, especially when I smell blow dried hair. I feel the pull of the brush through the strands, the hot air swishing from shaft to end making it as smooth as melamine for Harry to run his nubby fingers through. Now he massages my head nightly, rubbing olive oil into my scalp. I feel like a tossed salad.
“The customers like the way your head glows, Vee. It’s the oddity, like a Mexican Hairless dog.”
“If everyone owned hairless dogs we’d be broke, Harry.”
You can see why I don’t like shopping and why I’m not a vegetarian.