Freelance Hair Bitch comtemplates new direction in life

Sometimes I'll read a book or watch a television show and get so manically inspired to do something it invades my brain like a bad 80's pop song. Most of the time the feeling passes or a piddly little thing like reality steps in to bring me back down to earth.

My latest in a series of inspirational forays relates to my obsessive viewing of Shear Genius.

I'm a sucker for ridiculous reality TV. If one were to scroll through the saved recordings on my DVR, one would find everything from the spin off of Flavor of Love : Charm School to The First 48. It's all about balance, doncha' know.

Shear Genius was different from all the rest though.

I know it's because it's the first reality show that I could actually see myself participating in. I work pretty well under pressure, and can get along with almost anyone. I don't think I necessarily could have won the contest, but I think I'd at least have made a fair showing.

And here's where I decide I am inspired to step out of my comfortable bubble and do something. Cue dramatic soundtrack...

I'm seriously considering going back to cosmetology school to get my teacher's license.

I know I could do it, and Sallie Mae already owns a good chunk of my soul from my extended, yet unfinished experience at college. What's another few thou on top of the pile?

The only thing holding me back is finding the time to go. If I wait until my youngest is in kindergarten, I could pull it off easily but that's still two years away.

I could go at night, but a big reason I quit work outside the home was because I wasn't getting enough face time with the fam. However, from what I remember the teacher's program isn't that long (500 hours as opposed to the 1500 it took to get my regular cosmetology license).

I could talk myself in and out of this for hours on end.

If I do actually go through with it, what then? Will I be satisfied just accomplishing the goal? Do I really want to teach a bunch of would be Hair Bitches?

Yes and yes....sort of.

There were three main instructors when I went to beauty school. One was the owner, Julie. Julie was loud, flamboyant and her wardrobe would put even the most over-the-top drag queen to shame. She would sit back in her office, smoking her Virginia Slims in between roaming the floor, telling everyone how "pretty and talented" they were. We all knew she was full of shit. All she cared about was getting that tuition check every month. I don't know if it was the shoulder pads in her favorite turquoise Lycra jumpsuit or the way her hair crackled when a breeze came through, but we all loved her like a haggard, alcoholic great aunt.

Then there was Lori. Oh, Lori.

Lori was a small town girl with a penchant for eyeshadow. She sold Mary Kay as a second job and had zero self esteem. One time she decided to channel the Spice Girls and color the back of her hair a washed out red and put a hunka chunka of bleach through the front. One of my favorite memories of beauty school was the morning she walked in with this monstrosity of color and spent the first 15 minutes of classroom time going around the room to get our opinions of her new 'do. I'm pretty sure a lot of us had bitten a hole in our tongue by the end of it. Her painfully terrible self image combined with a barely passing knowledge of reading and writing skills made her my least favorite of the staff.

The third instructor was Patty. Patty was the task master of bunch. She should have been the one running the show, but was instead relegated to a second tier position. On orientation day she introduced herself, then told us that she does not, under any circumstances, take any shit from anyone. If we didn't like it well, the door's right there. She was instantly my favorite.

I figure I'll give a ring over there and see what all's involved in this potential time suck. I could step one foot back in the place and decide that I have enough crazy to deal with at home, and turn and run the other way.

Of course, it could be just the thing I need to get out of the house on my own more and also make a bit of my own dough.

Most importantly, my blog would become infinitely more interesting. That's all that really counts, right?