Just For Men

Ed and I traveled to the San Antonio Riverwalk with friends for a weekend break.  While there, we had drinks with our friends and a couple of total strangers.  All six of us were having a nice time in our hotel lounge when one of the strangers asked a question that shocked me to my soul.  He asked who was older, Ed or I.  I may have had premature grey hair from an early age but at least I have hair.  Ed is nine years my senior.  Obviously Ed was complimented and all three of the others were amused.  Shortly after our little group broke up I insisted that Ed and I go to the only drug store on the Riverwalk to buy some “Just for Men”.  When we got back to the hotel room Ed went to bed while I followed the step by step directions on the box.  I finally went to bed confident that I had restored my trophy husband looks.  In the morning we met our friends for breakfast and, as soon as they saw me, they burst out laughing.  Through my mind’s eye, I looked quite dapper.  To others (and I had to agree when I took a second look) my hair was orange.  Apparently my hair doesn’t absorb inexpensive hair color well.  When I got back to Dallas it cost me about $100 to go to a professional salon for old ladies to get it properly colored. The alternatives seemed to be a “redye” or I had to live with the orange hair until it grew out.  The second option was not tolerable to my self respect or vanity.

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