Wednesday, June 30, 2004 Dude, this is totally about my hair
This weekend my friend visited from out of town, and she and my roommate (the one who was not away on business) and I spent most of our time together. Sometime when we were out doing errands and so on, one of us noticed that we were a walking set-up. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead walk into: the woods, K-Mart, the apartment, the park. We didn't go out much, and avoided the bit where we walk into a bar altogether. The redhead doesn't drink, the blonde is frugal, and the brunette tends to stay indoors and type.
We did not meet any religious people, because we did not buy the bean pies. We couldn't think of any punchlines, either. I just did just now, though. "--And so the 'topsoil'! (we got to fill the new flowerbed) Was actually!! MANURE!!!" It's a prank we're playing on Ultra Mega Templeton, the rat who lives beneath the backyard. (Shh! He is legend.)
The brunette is not used to identifying in that way. She--OK, it's me, and I'm telling you only because I have strong negative feelings about people who refer to themselves in third person--I used to change my haircolor fairly often. The only reason I've let up a little in the past 6 or 8 months is that once you dye your hair too dark, you're stuck with it. I knew this when I did it. I've known since I first dyed my hair and by extension, all the bathroom towels an unnatural Midnight Black when I was about 14, and it wouldn't come out no matter what kinds of harsh chemicals I put on it. It wouldn't fade, either.
When one person in a circle of teenage oddballs learns the black dye lesson, it should follow that the rest do, too, and I think this is the case, even though I was not the first in my city, my school, nor my group of friends to be lured in. I think it was something we did to trick ourselves into a permanent change, in the days when we were not legally allowed to approach professionals for tattoos or marriage licenses.
Still, we all had to act surprised. "But this is a completely different brand! It says 8-24 shampoos. It's been 19. Now what am I supposed to do?" And all our friends had to commiserate.
Of course, we weren't stupid, even those of us who were totally stupid. We knew that no matter how permanent something is, when there's no chance to eradicate your mistake with powerful chemicals or cover it with something more attractive, there's always the scissors.
Then everybody calls you "little fella."
posted by Frenz | 6/30/2004 01:30:00 AM
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