I Meant To Do That

Since I don’t plan to be one of those little old ladies who gets her picture in the local paper for celebrating her 104th birthday, I suppose that at 52, I was too old to be having a midlife crisis. I just don’t know what else to call it.

It started at my son’s high school graduation. I was proud and happy as I watched him walk across the stage with his friends – his young, beautiful friends – in their caps and gowns. I noticed one girl in particular. She had dyed the front of her hair a lovely grass green. I thought, how stunning. Oh, to be 18 again.

Naturally, there were photographs. How nice to see us all together, everyone smiling. Look at me, how much I look like my dad. What? Where did that come from, and why didn’t the thought please me? My dad was a handsome guy. But now, with my hair more salt than pepper, I was his spitting image, and I wanted to do something about it.

I’ll color my hair again! Suddenly, I was tempted by the image of that gorgeous young thing with the green bangs. I don’t even need to make it a real hair color – it can be any color I want!

The next day, scanning the shelves of do-it-yourself products, I was glad I’d brought along my three-year-old imaginary granddaughter, Jordyn, as a consultant. We both agreed – Clifford (the Big Red Dog from Norman Bridwell’s much-loved children’s books) red it was! After all, I spent my days with preschoolers. It wasn’t like I had to go to a real job or anything. This would be fun!

Never one to delay gratification, I dove right in, as Jordyn watched…

Regrets? Immediately! Even my little sidekick said, “Make it go back now.”

Jump ahead a few days…I sat in church, wondering why I hadn’t remembered that I actually do go out sometimes. What on earth had I been thinking? My hair was so red, I didn’t even have clothes to match. Father could have been performing amazing card tricks up there on the altar and I wouldn't have noticed. Everything in me was focused on restraining myself from standing up and announcing to the congregation that “I meant to do this!”

As time – and shampoos – went by, my hair gradually faded from red to pink. Not a pretty pink. An obnoxious, splotchy, orangeish pink. I knew that I would soon be returning to regular sessions with Loreal’s Medium Ash Brown. I will admit, though, that I actually considered touching up the red one more time, because, as I like to say, “Nothing says ‘I meant to do that’ like doing it again.”