Beward of Orange Hair This Summer
Once upon a time many years ago in my hometown, a teenage boy showed up at the local summer swimming pool sporting orange hair. When we accused him of putting lightener in his hair, he denied it vehemently. We knew better. Back then, many moons ago, all the teenagers wanted blonde hair during the summer. Because I was what one might call “dirty blonde” in those days, I didn’t have to put stuff in my hair to make it lighten up. It kinda happened naturally when I swam in the pool and dried off in the baking sun. But my friend with dark brown hair desperately craved the attention us blondies were receiving from the girls during the summer. So he bought a bottle of something called “Sun-In” and gave it his best shot. If you search for Sun-In on the internet, even today you will discover that your hair may turn orange if you have dark hair to begin with. But we didn’t have the internet back then and my friend’s hair was destined to resemble an orangutang’s. Of course he was forced to deny the experiment to cover himself. Even so it provided us a few laughs. The whole “blonde is better” phenomenon existed in both males and females alike. Some tried peroxide while others diluted lemon juice with water and squirted it in their hair every fifteen minutes or so while lying out on their towels. Looking back I realize it was mostly a colossal waste of time. Most experiments either failed or were noticeably unnaturally fake. And even when a success story emerged, it didn’t last more than a couple weeks. All that being said, I’m not much concerned about my hair color these days. I’m just thankful to still have enough up there to run my fingers through. And I don’t care what color it is, though I would describe it as closer to brown these days instead of dirty blonde. Instead of exposing their hair to the sun, women who get their hair dyed try to protect their topsides from it. Apparently solar rays aren’t agreeable to dye jobs. Just goes to show you how our bodies and our priorities change over the years as we grow older. Things that seemed monumental thirty years ago are largely irrelevant today. Instead of applying suntan lotion like I did in my youth, I am a huge fan of sunscreen these days. Back then we lathered ourselves in lotion, baby oil, and even butter at times to invite the sun to burn us quicker. But still we never resembled the Coppertone girl with the shiny hiney. Morons we were. No offense intended to my generation. And alas we paid the price. I’ve already been pretty much forced to have one of those facial chemo-cream treatments to wipe away damaged layers of my fair skin. The butter of many years ago was the likely culprit. Yet the more things change, the more they stay the same. Recently one of the Stroupe boys requested the purchase of suntan lotion for the summer. We quickly denied the request though I was tempted to tell him to grab some butter when his mom wasn’t looking. Nah, that wouldn’t be prudent, though I would consider letting him dye his hair orange. Just for laughs.
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