Chronicles of a Ken Doll

This story begins a few weeks ago at a "Welcome to the Team" gathering for my new boss at a local pub (yes, that's right - a pub!) I can't recall the name of it right off the top of my head, but it was Irish...Definitely Irish...I think. Most of that evening seems to have passed in a bit of a haze since the beer was flowing freely because the director of the division was picking up the tab and no expense was to be spared.

Anyway, at some point in the evening, two of my co-workers, both attractive twenty-somethings, turned to me and started dissecting my "look". Needless to say by the time they finished with all the things that are wrong with me, I wanted something a bit stronger than beer. Thank God for Jager! It was then that it was decided that I needed a make-over. Nothing radical mind you just new glasses, haircut & clothes. Like I said, nothing radical.

Now, I have several friends that are gay and ever since Queer Eye for the Straight Guy first hit the airwaves, I've been patiently waiting for them to show up at my door to redecorate my apartment, teach me how to prepare coq au vin, introduce me to the world of couture, show me how to apply pommemade to my hair and...whatever the hell that pixie Jai does. Now mind you what I'm about to say is purely theory so it could be horribly wrong, but I think the reason this hasn't happened is that they are scared. That's right, scared. Scared that they just might succeed too well and I would become the center of attention. No queen wants someone else to be the center of attention. What's the point of a tiara if no one notices?

Originally, we planned the makeover for the Tuesday following Memorial Day. Due to several things, this did not work out so we rescheduled for this past Tuesday. Please let me stress that we did not leave work a half hour early. That would be wrong and I would never condone not putting in the full eight hours that are due to the company in recompense for my paycheck. Again, we did not leave early. But, supposing that we did, we might have started out at LensCrafters. Having just had my eyes examined for this express purpose, all the remained was to look over the selection of frames.

A lot of time was spent looking at different versions. Well, I should say that they spent a lot of time looking at me in different versions. As you may recall, without my glasses I can't see anything but blobs and shapes. It is very difficult for me to actually see what a particular frame looks like on me without squinting really, really hard which just ruins the whole effect.

I do have certain requirements regarding my frames, such as they had to have clip on sunglasses because I really don't care for the idea of having to buy two pairs of glasses and the tint couldn't be bronze. Other than that, I was open. Should the glasses be rimless? No. Should I get transition lens? Another no. How about these round ones? No, yet again. What about these beige ones? An emphatic no. Eventually, we settled on a nice pair of frames that were both to their liking and mine.

Off I went to get the glasses made and off they went to The Gap (for a little shopping of their own). Unfortunately, LensCrafters couldn't fit my prescription into the nice $119 frames that we picked out. Actually, the prescription would have fit fine but the clip on sunglasses wouldn't fit over it. So, with this bad news, I went to find the girls at the Gap. After they tried on a couple of outfits and returned some items, back we went to LensCrafters where we eventually settled on another pair - a $200 pair also with clip on sunglasses but don't clip to the lens. There was a bit of sticker shock since this only was the frames and not even the lens, but then I was reminded that I'd had my last glasses for about 6 years, so assuming that these last as long that works out to $33 a year or about 9 cents a day. Plus, I have vision insurance, so I suppose I could handle that.

I've looked around on the 'net and can't find a picture of the glasses. Surprisingly, LensCrafters doesn't actually show any of their available selection - guess it's because that selection will vary by location. I tried everything that I could think of, from the model number to various keywords on Google. In this case, Google was Garbage. Perhaps, I shouldn't type that what with having only recently re-established my #1 position with the "musings adulthood" keywords. Oh well.

Glasses out of the way, it was time to tackle the hair, which included any and all hair that happened to be on my head. My guides to a brand new me had made a 6:30 appointment so inevitably it was about 6:50 before I was led to the chair with them trailing not far behind. I told my stylist, Janice, that the women were in charge and to do what they said. I figured what little of my hair remained would grow back eventually no matter what they asked for. It turns out that I basically got the same cut as I normally get (see my previous entry about habits). The only twist was the introduction of "product". Yep, the only difference between the old and new me is a dab of gel - who knew it would be so easy?

Au contraire, mon frere. The worst was about to come - not because of the result, but because of what I had to suffer to get there. After getting my beard trimmed and my moustache slightly reshaped, it was decided that the "skunk" look that I normally sport (not by design, it just grows in darker on the sides and lighter in the middle) just wasn't appropriate, so out came the hair dye.

For the next 50, GQ filled minutes I had to sit in the chair as the hair dye did its job. For those of you who haven't had their hair colored, the smell of the dye is nothing short of caustic. Generally, the dye is applied to the hair growing out of the top of the head and not to that growing right beneath the nose. Just as I would grow accustomed to the smell, Janice would come around and "freshen up" the dye..."just to be sure we got everything" was her reason. I suspect it was because she took a certain sadistic pleasure in seeing a grown man cry.

All told, everything came out well. Due to length of time that was required for the coloring, the girls abandoned me so we never made it to the clothes portion of the makeover. We were going to go today at lunch but one of the two was out sick today. I don't know exactly if/when we are going to go but there will definitely be another entry.

The big unveiling at work went well. I was a few minutes late, but now that I have apply product, I blamed it on that. Everyone likes the new glasses and the consistent color of the facial hair. One weird comment that I heard a couple of times was that I looked more tan. That took me aback a bit especially since I don't tan - I red. My sister got all of the Italian genes from the pool, which left me just the German. And Germans are not well known for their olive skin. About the only thing that I can figure is that the combo of the new, smaller glasses and the dyed moustache/beard somehow gave my skin the appearance of a deep, rich, George Hamilton tan.

Oh, one last thing. There are some before and after pics of the transformation which I will post once I get them. Until then, remember the immortal words of Fernando Lamas..."it is better to look good than to feel good." And man, do I look good - everybody says so between fits of laughter.