Elaine White

I’ve had five “therapists” in my life, all of them after I turned 40.

All except two are men, two hairdressers, and one was gay…is gay…I live with his “therapy” now more than ever, since he colored my hair just one shade more golden than Marilyn Monroe’s famous locks.  I figure he did this so I would have to travel to Austin every few weeks to hide my brown roots and to see my granddaughters.

Anyway, let me tell you about one of my “therapists.”

His name was Carlos, a wonderfully colorful Spaniard, who owned an upscale hair salon in Austin with his French wife, Claudette.  Carlos gave me the most astute advice after I peered at him in the mirror through tears and announced that I was ending my 24 year marriage while he worked on my hair.

It’s farcical to watch yourself pouring out your heart to someone you…