Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Turns out, they’re quite useful.

My smallish people that is. As I was unthinkingly going through my morning habit of straightening my hair, I looked into my three-way mirror and caught a quick glimpse of what appeared to be a gray hair sprouting from the back of my head. Normally I find the little bastards towards the front, more favorably placed where I can promptly pluck them. Not this one. I used tweezers and fingernails but was unable to grasp it. I tried persuading the maverick strand to lie still under the more fetching brown hairs, but it persistently reappeared. I found myself unable to continue my beautification until the mutineer was removed. I called to the Boy, who usually likes to “help” me apply makeup or “style” my hair. This usually involves every bobby pin I own, copious amounts of pink blush, and spray bottle of water. But I digress.

Me: Honey, do you see that white shiny hair in the back of Mama’s head?

Boy: I think so.

Me: Could you pull it out for me?

Boy: Just that one?

Me: Yes, try not to pull out my good hairs, I need those.

He proceeds to unsuccessfully pull out the one gray hair. He does, much to my displeasure, manage to yank out 40 good brown hairs, give or take a few. He beckons to the Girl, who was curiously watching from the doorway, to lend him a hand. As my scalp continued to be prodded and marred by 20 small fingers, I began to wonder if I should just let the gray hair be. Of course it was during this thought that the Boy yelled “got it!” Great, I think to myself, thank you, I really appreciate your help. Now would you mind bringing me the dust-buster? I have to clean up this mocking heap of brown that formerly existed on top of my head. As a slight headache starts to creep from the back of my skull, I just smile.


Blogger mama said...

This means I have to actually share my silly blog thoughts with someone other than my husband, but I had to post something here.

I'm glad I'm not the only one having her child pull out her silver hairs. You're luckier than I apparantly because now I need clippers to get all of them. It's like they've revolted due to my attempts to pluck them out. I'm beginning to believe the old wives tail now and if I could turn back time..... :-)

I love being 30!!

And you can't laugh or privatly make fun of my blog, gramatic errors,mispelled words and all.

1:33 PM  
Blogger beenie said...

My mom loves to have her hair brushed, which I would do for her quite a bit while we were watching Sunday night TV when I was a pre-teen. I used to yank the greys* for her. She'd protest sometimes, but I know she secretly enjoyed it.

* Hmmm, greys. Um, no, that's not right. Silver! That's it, silver. Her non-brown hairs are silver, as are my dad's, and now mine. Bright, shiny, effin' SILVER.

I've gone anti-silver. I am now, and have been for a while now, L'Oreal Feria Espresso. ;)

12:41 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home