Ode to a fuzzy head

So I mentioned my Loreal 7BB hair dye addiction yesterday (http://wp.me/p1Auii-33), and told you there was a story there.

In truth, the label “story” might be a stretch.  It is more like narrative proof that I am surrounded by people smarter than me, in this case my sister.

The background to the “story” is that a few of my hairs started to turn grey soon after I began having children (coincidence, I am sure), and that until S was born I was on an eternal quest to find a hair dye that would match my original color.  By the time she arrived, I had tried so many shades of “ash brown” dye that I had lost all sense of what my hair was actually supposed to look like.

Enter S whose shade I immediately recognized as my own.  Hallelujah!  I finally had a plan!  I would take S to Target, and hold her fuzzy newborn head up to all the hair dye boxes to make a match.  She was only a few months old, but had plenty of hair to discern the shade.  I distinctly remember E making a tower of hair dye boxes while S and I went about our task, and several shoppers passing non-verbal judgment on my allowing E to destroy aisle 12.  (“Whatever”, I thought, “she’s happy and before I leave I am going to put all the boxes right back…”)

It was only after we completed our task (turns out I am Loreal 7BB: Dark Beige Blonde! Who knew I was technically a blonde?!?!  Thank God for progeny)…Anyway, it was only after I had (1) completed my task (2) cleaned up after E, and (3) called my sister to tell her both about my accomplishment and about E’s big hairy towers, that I realized what was actually happening in those other shoppers’ minds.

A recap of the conclusion of our conversation:

Me: “….So that’s how I found the perfect shade of hair dye!  I’ll be my natural (can you believe it, I’m technically a blonde!) color again in no time!  And maybe unrecognizable to all the women judging me on Target aisle 12!”

Sister: “You know they were not judging you for letting E play with the boxes, right?”

Me: “What?”

Sister:  “They weren’t staring because of E’s towers.  You do know that, right?”

Me: “What?”

Sister:  “OK.  Let me say it straight out.  You do realize that everyone who saw you holding S up to those boxes probably thought you were planning to dye the baby’s hair…”

Me: [stunned silence]

Sister: [matching silence…credit her for not inserting a blonde joke here]

Me: “Wow.  You are 100% right.  It’s like all my interactions during the last hour just now came into focus, and all those nasty looks suddenly make complete sense.  But I’m amazed; no one said anything!”

Sister:  “No on said anything to you.  I’d get your story straight in case one of them got your license plate number and is planning to give child services a call.”


There is a happy ending, as child services never came calling, and Loreal 7BB has truly been a perfect match.  But I imagine somewhere out there, there are mothers who still think of me when they recall the worst mommying moments they [think they] have ever witnessed: me deciding my baby’s precious fuzzy hair should be an alternate color, and then purchasing chemicals to rub on her three month old head!


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