As promised, I'm flashing back to some significant moments / trips / ideas / experiences as I have time. And when better to do so than when the meds kick in and is doesn't hurt to type?
My first flashback ties in with my most recent blog post, "A New Look."
On April 1 of this year, I decided it was high time to unleash 32 1/2 years of my mischevious nature the world. (Can you believe I'd NEVER done a for-real April Fool's joke till then? Such a waste.)
Anyway, with a little help from the awesome
ALong, I decided to post on
Fbk that I'd gone blonde.
Those of you who don't know me very well may not realize what a significantly big deal this was for peeps around me. My hair is red -- or as my Grandma Johnson always said, "auburn" -- and it's natural. I've never minded it, because a) I never got picked on about it, and b) always got plenty of positive attention for it. To boot, my hair is naturally curly, so I still get grief every time I straighten it and happen to be around my Nan or my Daddy. (Because heaven forbid a girl have more than one hair option after 22 years of the same old thing.) But anyway...you get the picture.
I thought when posting the statement on my
Facebook status (Rebekah is blonde, and has decided that they DO have more fun!), I'd just get some fun feedback from my friends.
Well, that's pretty much an understatement of the results. The whole scenario was hilarious. A lot of peeps didn't believe me, so I (confidentially) begged every graphic artist type I knew to puh-leeze photoshop
Reese Witherspoon's hair on one of my pics. Thankfully,
Shannon's friend was about to do it quickly, so up it went.
Well, from there, the comments exploded. They included:
The skeptical:
- "This is fake! I see mountains in the background."
- "Is that a wig? That sort of looks like a wig..."
The incredulous:
- "You really DID it?! Wow!"
- "That red hair was so unique...but this looks good, too."
And the complimentary:
- "Whoa! You've never looked so good in your LIFE!"
- "Amazing! You should've gone blonde YEARS ago!"
Etc.
Finally, it was the complimentary that did me in. After a couple of days of gushing raves about how I looked better than ever, I became depressed at the same old dog staring back at me every time I passed a mirror. So I admitted it was a joke, and that was that. (Or so I thought.)
Somewhere around the-jig-is-up time, I was on the phone with my mom, who had found a great deal on some expensive towels I like and was seeing if I wanted any. My sister called in while we were talking, so I told my mother I'd call her back. My conversation with my (usually ridiculously sweet and mild) sister went something like this:
- RJ:
Hey Kim!
- KJW:
WHAT?! I cannot BELIEVE this. After all the pushback I got for a few highlights to cover my GRAYING hair, you go and DYE YOURS BLONDE????? TELL ME this is a joke.
- RJ:
(laughing) Oh, you saw Facebook?
- KJW:
YES, I saw FACEBOOK. This is unbelievable!!!!
- (in the background) Kim's husband Steve: Is it real? Well, IS IT?
- RJ:
Kim. Of course it's not real. Can't you tell that's a Photoshopped pic? Why would I do that and not tell you?!
- KJW:
Oh! Ok.
(yells: Steve, it's not real!)
- RJ:
If you saw it, do you think Mother did? Maybe I should call her back now...
So call my (typically sweet and gentle) Mother back I did. And that, my friends, is when the REAL fun began. THAT conversation followed THIS general line:
- RJ:
(laughing) Hey Mother! That was Kim -- she'd just seen Facebook. She thought my April Fool's joke was REAL!!!! Hahahahahaha!
- Mother:
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WASN'T REAL? THAT WAS FOR APRIL FOOL'S? I WORRIED, I STEWED, I HEMMED AND HAWED AT THE OFFICE. I MADE MY COWORKER PULL IT UP TO 1,000% TO MAKE SURE IT WASN'T A WIG! AND IT'S NOT REAL????
- RJ:
Um...are you still in the department store?
- Mother:
YES, I'M STILL IN THE DEPARTMENT STORE! Buying towels for YOU! Who almost gave me a HEART ATTACK. I told them at the office: "That is the WORST frost job I have EVER seen in my LIFE!"
- RJ:
Mother, it was a joke.
- Mother:
A joke? A joke. It was a JOKE?! Well, I hope you got a good laugh out of it, little missy. Do you know what people would DO to have your hair color? And you have it NATURALLY!
- RJ:
And it's still its natural color. That was Reese Witherspoon's hair Photoshopped on my face.
- Mother:
Little lady, ANYONE can be a blonde. ANYONE. But not everyone can have your shade of red hair. If you EVER get a frost job like that...
- RJ:
I don't think they call them frost jobs anymore...
- Mother:
It doesn't matter WHAT they call them! It's awful, your hair is perfectly FINE like it is, and ANYONE can be a blonde.
- RJ:
Um, are you still in the store?
- Mother:
Yes.
- RJ:
And there's probably one or two blondes who can hear you?
- Mother:
:: sigh :: Well, maybe. But THEY KNOW. They chose that hair color because they didn't have hair like YOURS. NATURALLY.
- RJ:
Should we talk later, maybe?
And on it went. For about two weeks.
The hits kept on rollin' -- I actually got a CALL from a cousin whom I NEVER hear from personally. I didn't even have the number he called from in my PHONE. I've basically communicated with his wife or his assistant for the past five or so years, unless we were in person, at a family gathering. But he called all by himself...for this?! Oh, but yes.
My Nan gave me about the same drill as my mother, but louder.
(And people, I'd just like to say: blonde hair is beautiful. As is straight hair. My family just has some sort of...obsession?!...with curly red hair. So do NOT take it personally. As Angela says about this and the ex-boyfriend who flipped every time I got my split ends cut, "Apparently, it's really not your hair after all. It's everyone else's, to tell you what you can or can't do with it.)
So from this experience, I learned why it took me 32 1/2 years to do an April Fool's joke. And why the next one probably won't come around till I'm 64 1/2. Those suckers are EXHAUSTING!
Also, actually getting highlights this summer to cover my gray strands was much less painful than it could've been.
Thank you, April 1, 2009. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.