My true colours

My hair is naturally blonde. My hairdresser works hard to make sure it stays that way. And while I do my fair share of dumb things, I don’t like to refer to them as blonde moments. On behalf of all my fair-haired brothers and sisters out there, welcome to my world of brunette moments.

I’ll start off with a London one. Some years back, my husband and I came over to the UK and Europe for a three month holiday. We had planned it to be longer and a working holiday, but it ended up being three months. Holiday? Yes. Working? Not so much.

Our time in England was spent with my husband’s best friend from school. He took us around and about, and we spent plenty of time in London, seeing shows and sight-seeing and enjoying the outrageously vibrant city that was nothing like we’d experienced before. Our friend would tell us to close our mouths, as our Africa-shaped jaws kept hanging open. We usually walked a few paces behind him, looking about and soaking everything in. We were two little nosy puppies, looking about and following him everywhere.

On one of our visits into London, the scene was as I describe above:  our friend striding ahead with local confidence, our following behind trying not to stare at everything and everyone. He turned around to say something to us but we didn’t catch what he said. When he turned to go down some stairs, we thought he had been letting us know we were going to the tube station. We followed him down the stairs and I couldn’t figure out why people coming up the stairs were looking at me strangely. Maybe we looked well forrin; that’s what I put it down to.

We got to the bottom of the stairs, and I thought it didn’t look like a typical tube station. As I took in the view ahead, I thought, “Oh wow, they even have little seats for you to sit on while you wait for the tube. Those are funny-looking, low, round, porcelain ….” and then all the blood drained from my head as I realised we had followed him to the gents’ loo. Those stairs led nowhere else. No wonder I’d had those looks. I ran up to the pavement in one leap and had to fan the life back into my lungs … I was so embarrassed I thought I was going to faint.

Another brunette moment happened some years ago BC (before children). Our phone rang one Saturday morning at 7am. That hour doesn’t exist before you have children. As is usually the case, my husband plays dead and then asks me who was on the phone. I’m sure plenty of you can relate. I jumped out of bed and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, can I speak to Sarah please?”

“Sorry, you must have the wrong number.”

“Is that not 88…….?”

“Yes. You have the right number but the wrong person.”

I am sure that caller still scratches his head, wondering what on earth I meant. Me too.

In one of my previous jobs, I had an allocated parking space in a central city parkade. I got to know my parking neighbours quite soon and we would always wave hello to each other. One morning, I was getting out of my car as my neighbour drove into his parking. We waved and smiled at each other, and he drove his car into the wall. Gently, but loudly.

My less-than-gracious thought was, “What a dork! I can only imagine how embarrassed he feels.”

And off I went to carry on with my day.

The very next morning, he was locking his car as I arrived and pulled into my parking space. We waved and smiled at each other and I drove my car into the wall. Gently, but loudly. Karma can be a b***h.

I’d love to hear about your differently-coloured-hair moments – we’re all friends here, remember?

Sunshine signing off for today.

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33 thoughts on “My true colours

  1. Unfortunately, I’ve had a few of these myself–yikes! Though my partner Sara says my moments are not so much “blonde” as they are “weird”– I do have a post from a couple of weeks ago called the “Top 10 reasons I might just be a Freak”–if that tells you anything!

  2. Hilarious post. “Those” moments in my life have occurred in abundance no matter what color my hair is, although I’ve notice that the greyer it gets, the more episodes I have. I used to think it was age, but now, thanks to you, I know it’s the grey hair (even though it’s hidden under the blond).

      1. I actually remember a similar phone conversation when somebody called our house looking for the previous owner (we kept the number). It went like this:

        Caller: May I speak to John please?
        Me: John’s not here.
        Caller: When will he be back?
        Me: No, I meant he’s moved out.
        Caller: Is that Jane [John’s wife]?!

        The caller obviously knew them personally, but didn’t have regularly contact, so didn’t know they had moved. His tone sounded a little shocked – he obviously thought he’d missed John and Jane’s breakup too. In my defence, I had just woken up out of a deep sleep . . .

  3. Shoo wee how many- i will call it my blonde moment (since i am brunette)….. or should we call it the red moments? Anyway, i go up to teh Numetro ticket counter and i ask “what time is the 8 o’clock movie?” I will defend that to the core (when does teh8 o;clock movie ever start at 8?)- however my family would rag me about that for as long as they are around!!
    Great post!!!

    1. I have, actually – lost my younger son in a busy shopping mall when he was about two. I’ll read your post – your episode sounds funny, ours wasn’t!
      Laughter is such a gift – I know exactly what you mean! Thanks, Jeanne xx

  4. Sorry Sunshine the link I listed didn’t work but if you search “Life happens” you will find the post titled “In the Midst of living…Life Happens” Jeanne

  5. Hi Sunshine:

    Loved the post about following your friend into the men’s room…I too have walked into the men’s room by mistake (after running into a friend at the hospital…finished our chat and I resumed my path into what I thought was the ladies’ room…wrong!).

    My blonde moment was when I saw a woman standing in between the two sets of doors at the bookstore. At first, I thought it was the secretary from the office upstairs waiting for a drive home. I realized I was mistaken when the next time I walked by, she was squatting in the entryway, lighting a joint! I surmised I was dealing with one of our local hookers. I was so flabbergasted that I opened the door and said the only thing I could think of: “This is a non-smoking building!” She said nonchalantly, “I hear ya,” and removed herself from the premises. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t left! I still shudder to think of it!

    Hugs,
    Wendy

  6. Hahahaha. I love it, Sunshine. Very funny.

    I actually am brunette, so I’ll fess up to a brunette moment that sounds an awful lot like one of yours.

    One Saturday in college, I was researching for some Lit paper. I was weaving through the rows of books, looking for something on Milton, when I saw a guy a knew. He was working on the same assignment I was, so I caught up with him to ask him a question. As we were walking, he put his hand on a door, pushed it open, and started to walk through, and since we were still mid-conversation, naturally I followed him…right into the men’s restroom. Ha! So I know what you mean about fanning yourself from embarrassment. I think I went straight back to my table of books, tossed them all into my backpack and virtually sprinted out of the building. Fun times.

    You’re such a brilliant story teller. Nicely done!

    1. Thanks so much, Maura … I’m glad we share the embarrassment of a men’s room moment! (With Wendy too!) And your friend was too polite to ask you why you were following him? It’s amazing how fast you can move when you feel embarrassed! That’s so funny xx

  7. Ha-ha! I liked the tube station that wasn’t 🙂

    Lucky for me my ‘blonette’ moments aren’t always witnessed.

    One can get pretty used to having electricity on hand 99.9% of the time and my internal planner works according to that. Who can blame a girl for mixing a cake, only to realise that she can’t bake it because she forgot that there is a power outage?

  8. I used to be a lot blonder. Thing is, my darker blonde makes me look drawn out so my hairdresser does her best to keep me blonde too. I read your post earlier and thought there were too many blonde moments to single out so left it then………… I had an incident in the kitchen of MOST recent blondeness!

    We finally broke down and put the central heating on today. Was making tea and at a certain part of the kitchen felt a boost of warmth. In my head I worked out that there must be a vent close to the stove……………..NOT, I had left the stove on and well…. DUH!

  9. I pay good money to stay blonde–in part so I can claim “blonde moments”…
    my daughter, Italian-dark like my husband, also claims blonde moments…
    🙂
    fun post–
    jane

  10. I am not a brunette, but as Vampire Gran, I play one on the Internet. I, too, have a men’s room story that goes like this……..
    When I was 21 I lived in Reno, Nevada and worked in a casino. After work, my friends and I always partied at the casino a few doors down from the one in which we worked. I knew that casino lay out pretty well, or so I thought…..
    After work one day, and after several strong free beverages, I excused my self to go to the rest room. I took a wrong turn, walked straight into a crowded mens room and, quite confused, I blurted out “What are you guys doing in here? You’re in the wrong one!” And it took them a little bit to convince me that I was the one who was mistaken! And that is another reason why I am glad I don’t drink any more!
    :> Patty

  11. Those are some funny stories. Although I’ve never mistakenly walked into the men’s room, I did have a bathroom mishap many years ago. I was putting the finishing touches on my hair–hairspray, when I noticed a strange smell? What is that, I wondered as I continued spraying. Finally, it dawned on me what the smell was. Lysol. Yep. I was spraying Lysol on my hair instead of hairspray! duh!

  12. Love the driving into the wall moment. 🙂 Mine is similar, sort of. Was mad as a hatter at my boyfriend, and had just sent him the nastiest of text messages containing one or two F-bombs. I knew I shouldn’t have texting while driving, but I was really and truly mad and thought a true argument justified it. Right after I hit send I promptly rammed into the back of a Brinks truck.

    (Brinks is an armored vehicle that carries money from one bank to the next.) The driver was NOT amused. Nor were the police. Nor was the boyfriend.

    Karma. !#$!$! Karma. !!!

    Teri

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