Couple of things I heard this week: “We need to clean the toilet” and “I’ll pay for it.” The latter was in reference to paying $150 to get my hair dyed. Neither one of these made me feel good about myself.
First off, I know of exactly zero men who are good about cleaning a toilet. And I know of even fewer who give a crap if the toilet is actually clean.
That one single comment set me to thinking.
Mostly that I might kick said person’s ass for even saying something so outlandish. Seriously, who’s going to actually clean a dirty toilet other than a wife, girlfriend or mother? I see no fathers, uncles or brothers in this scenario.
Secondly the person who said she’d pay full price on Martha’s Vineyard to get my hair dyed is my daughter. Apparently I’m looking a little worse for wear.
She has no idea that this bill will start at $150 and that’s before the shampoo and dye job. Or maybe she does and she could care less?
I find that my kids are a bit uncomfortable about my gray hair. They seem to think that if I put my mind to it I could do a few cartwheels and maybe climb a mountain or two. Surely I could get rid of my gray hair.
I’m familiar with this fantasy. I remember feeling the same way about my own parents. They didn’t really seem old to me until they were about 65. Now that I’m 54, 65 looks pretty goddamn sweet.
I can remember thinking when I was a kid that no real woman would wear jeans after age 40. I saw lots of women in checkout lines and all the time I would be looking at their pants. Jeans or just some nasty cotton pants with an elastic waistband. And, somehow I thought then that the colored cotton pants were the proper way to go for a woman over 40.
Now I find I wear jeans every day. And I know a whole lot of women over 50 who do the same thing. I’m wondering if the fact that we’re all comfortable in these jeans doesn’t speak to the fact that we’re all crazy and no one is wearing pastel pants in our group. Or more likely, we’ve evolved.
Who the hell is going to wear pale orange pants these days?
It’s funny how all the things you think about when you’re 12 don’t exactly come to fruition when you’re 50. Thank God.