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.
Comments