Monday, May 14, 2007

I Am Getting Old - Part Fifteen

I am getting old because…it is 2007 and I was born in 1943. Okay, I think you get the point.

I have been wearing my hair really short for the last twelve or thirteen years for several reasons. It is easier to take care of and I have never been one to “fuss” with hair styles. My hair has never looked like the hair you see in commercials. It has always been “lifeless” and dull. Never “swinging” to and fro nor shining. I have tried every shampoo and conditioner on the market and nothing has ever given me that kind of hair. I sort of resigned myself to the fact that my hair is what it is. Anyway, I think short hair looks better on me that hair with any length. Now to the thing that is really bothering me about my short hair. You would not believe how many times I am called “SIR” by salespersons or for that matter other people. I give them the benefit of doubt by thinking they have only seen me from the rear and cannot tell. If that is the case then, WHY DON’T YOU WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE THE FRONT OF ME TO DECIDE IF I AM MALE OR FEMALE? I know I am not one of the “beautiful people” but I am reasonably attractive (at least my husband thinks so) and I do not look like a male. On the other hand, my husband has the same problem. His hair is somewhat curly and he wears it a little longer and he gets called “MAAM” all the time. I suppose we will have to “swap” hair styles if we expect to be referred to properly. But then again, we are not the confused ones, so to heck with the people who cannot tell the difference.

After many years of “coloring” my hair, I made a decision to go natural which meant that my hair is gray (salt and pepper ugly gray). My husband’s hair is black with touches of gray at the temple. Imagine my despair when he is asked if I am his mother. This has actually happened and is a real boost to his ego as you can imagine. We are the same age and I do not look that old. Once again, why don’t people just keep quite? Needless to say, in February of this year, I had my hair “colored” again to a warm blonde and now I look ten years younger and have not been mistaken for his mother lately.

When I was thirteen or fourteen, I decided that I wanted blonde hair and knew that my mother would never let me change the color. Since I was just an unsophisticated teenager at the time, I thought I knew how to “bleach” my hair blonde. I reasoned that if Clorox Bleach whitened clothes, that it should work on my hair as well. Yep, you guessed it. I poured Clorox Bleach on my head to “bleach my hair”. Needless to say, it did not work and I smelled funny for a while and mother wondered what had happened to her bleach. Another thing I did regarding hair was that when my soon was five and since he wore a “burr” haircut, I decided I would buy a hair cutting set and save money by cutting his hair. No wonder my son has a problem with me. lol After the first haircut I gave him, I gave the hair cutting set to the girl who did my hair at the time. You might wonder how you can mess up a “burr” haircut, well I managed to do it.

5 comments:

Noor Azman Othman GBE said...

Thank you Sylvia for sharing. No matter what, your hubby still think you looked attractive. I think that what matter most. Don't you think so?

Ron Southern said...

We are who we are, and the fact that "other people" are occasionally such fools cannot be fathomed or curtailed. Wear your hair the way you find good, don't worry about the shitheads who can barely count change. Liked your post!

Sylvia said...

Ron, if you return to visit here, leave me the url for your blog so I visit. Thanks for the comment and I do agree with you.

Jeni said...

Several months ago, I posted one day about the time I decided to frost my hair - myself - and the debacle that ensued from that venture! That was a really BAD scene in my life. LOL

Shadow said...

so the bean asked me the other day how many times i have coloured my hair. and the answer: every 6 weeks since i was 18. that makes..... way too many times to even want to work it out.