For as long as I've known Charlie, he has maintained that when he turned 40 years old, he'd buy himself a Porsche. But when he first made that prediction, years and years ago, he obviously couldn't see in to the future. For if he had, he'd have known that when he turned 40 years old, he'd be the father of two-year-old triplets and his wife would be gestating his fourth baby and a Porsche was definitely not going to happen, unless it was a Match Box size, because almost all of his expendable income was going directly in to a diaper fund.
Over the past few months, the stress on our family has really taken a toll on my husband and last night, as we were driving to South Carolina from Virginia, he told me that he was headed straight for a mid-life crisis. Not helping matters any, was our little Carolyn, who at 12:30 AM was wide-awake in the back seat sweetly inquiring if Daddy's beard was going to get even MORE white when he had his next birthday?
Those words no sooner left our daughter's lips when Charlie shot me a glance and said, "I know what I'm going to do. When I fly back to California this week, I'm going to dye my hair BLONDE. I'm going to go see a professional, just like you do, and let them put those foil things all over my head." He paused and then added, "Then, I'm going to go to a tanning booth and get a deep, dark tan. When I step off the plane, you aren't going to even recognize me!"
I started to laugh, imagining my husband sporting a white leisure suit and loafers, blonde hair with skin bronzed, walking down the steps of the plane like someone who got completely lost on their way home from Fantasty Island.
"So," I asked, thinking specifically about his eye brows, "Are you going to dye all of your hair blonde?" "Yep," he said. "All of it." Then he winked and added, "Baby, the curtains are going to match. the. carpet."
It took a minute for the implication of that to register, and once it did, I was laughing so hard that I had a difficult time seeing the road through my tears. Under normal conditions, Charlie putting himself through an off the chart metrosexual transformation would be highly unlikely. Of course he might just be kidding but the fact is, we all respond to pressure a little differently and considering the past few months, nothing would surprise me.
Once I was able to regain my composure, I thought it was important for me to tell my husband the risks associated with such an activity.
"You know, bleaching one's hair might have unexpected and harmful consequences," I informed him. "Why? What do you mean?" he asked. "Is it bad for your body?"
"Well, I suspect it could be bad for your marriage."
That, in turn, made him laugh. Until he resumed his dead pan expression and asked, "Oh yeah? What if I dyed it red?"
Sure. That sounds great!
I could really use some good blog fodder.
I mean, it's not like I have very much to write about.