The other day I made (the money to purchase) a delicious German potato salad for a barbecue. It was a hit, so I decided to make/buy it again. I went to the store immediately after work and, while waiting to pay, saw a former coworker. “Wow. I hardly recognized you. You look so conservative,” she said and added, “You know what I mean. Usually your hair is wild (this bit included hand gestures that implied more big than wild) and so many different colors. You’re wearing a nice dress. I mean, you always did, but, truly, I didn’t recognize you. I heard you hurt your shoulder. I guess that’s why you can’t do your hair that way anymore.”
A few hours later, wearing the same outfit, I met Standard Time for drinks. As I approached the table she said, “Look at you! Do you always get dressed up for work? I mean, you know what I mean. You look really pretty.”
I can actually do my hair. I couldn’t for a while – especially the first few weeks after I fractured my shoulder. I wouldn’t, however, use the word ‘conservative’ to describe my current appearance; nor would I use ‘dressed up.’ In fact, based on these two very different yet similar comments today, I’m not sure what I’ve got going on. I am sure, however, that a change is due. As soon as my cord zipper pull arrives in the mail I’ll unzip this dress, send it to good will, buy some Clairol Loving Care and wash the conservative right out of my hair.