Tag Archives: blonde

I can admit this because it’s Friday.

6 Apr

Dear Readers: I Love You. Seriously – I can’t believe you’ve hung in there, considering four of my last five posts were about bodily functions. (And I’m not talking hiccups and sneezes.) You. Are. Awesome. Or demented. But at least you’re my kind of demented. So thanks!

To reward you, I will post about something OTHER than scat for once…

Because it's Easter weekend

There are two things I simply can’t possess for more than three months: sunglasses and umbrellas. They either break or I lose them. Knowing that, I refuse to spend much money on them.

A few weeks back my office went bowling after work. It was a pretty posh bowling alley – the kind that has disco lights and velvet couches and is located next to a theatre so people can make an entire evening of it. As we were wrapping up and changing out of our shoes, I noticed a pair of sunglasses under the table.

“Hey – do these belong to anyone?” I asked. Apparently not. They weren’t the greatest sunglasses, but they fit my head so I kept them. (I suppose I should’ve turned them into Lost & Found, but that didn’t cross my mind since we were the first bowlers in there that day.)

Anyway. I was mildly jazzed to have picked up a pair of new sunglasses for free, considering I’m usually the one leaving mine places. Karma finally came around on this one!

It was sunny last night when I headed out to yoga, so I popped on the glasses before I headed out. And – like the other times I’ve worn them, I realized something weird was happening. Manhole covers were shimmery. (If I were a gamer, I might’ve tried to jump on one to see if they would explode and earn me points.)

Every fleck of stone in the asphalt seemed to pop out of the pavement. Cop lights in the distance seemed somehow more vivid.

And that’s when I realized: the sunglasses? Actually 3-D glasses from the theatre next to the bowling alley.

That’s right. I’ve been wearing 3-D glasses around as sunglasses.

Guess it’s time for me to touch up those highlights.

Guess it’s time to dye my roots.

30 Aug

Alan and I have been living on different continents for much of the past four months. As a result, he’s viewing me with fresh eyes. At least, I’d like to think that’s what prompted him – completely unprompted – to ask this weekend,”Wow. How dark is your hair naturally?”

I looked at him steadily, and in the pause that allowed me to formulate my thoughts, he continued, “I mean. I’m confused. I’m not seeing the amount of silvers that I usually do, so you must’ve dyed it recently, but the roots are still really dark. Almost brown. How do you do that?”

Admittedly, I find it endearing that he doesn’t realize how most women would take this. (Flashback to when he compared me to a calico cat because I had swirls of blond, brown and gray hair.) And I’m under no illusion that I have great hair or even well-colored hair.

The truth is, I don’t know what my natural color is. I was blond as a child and started swimming in middle school, so my hair has had some degree of chemical treatment since I was 11. Since I now have a ridiculous number of grays on my head (random guess would point to 25%), I color my hair to help them blend in, rather than to chase some fantasy of being blond.

In any case, Alan’s fascination with my hair led me to explain that I couldn’t exactly define “natural,” but I was pretty sure it wasn’t actually blond. He seemed satisfied with that explanation, so we hopped a bus to meet friends in Georgetown for a mid-hurricane brunch.

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