Just when I thought I'd heard or seen it all...I became a stepmother to two teen sons and an adult daughter. The two boys still resided at home so we really got to know each other.
I learned men hate when girls call eight times a day. I discovered men conduct entire conversations by grunting, burping and farting. I also found out socks can be absolutely deadly after festering under a mattress for a week. Finally, I learned men are very protective of their manly image.
So you can imagine my surprise when I returned home from work one day to find two drippy, smelly teen boys cackling around the bathroom mirror like a couple of girls.
My older stepson emerged from the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist and over his head. It was the first time I saw a man wearing a self-created towel turban as if his hair had just been "done".
"What's happening?" I asked him. "Is everything alright?"
"Stacey, we're having serious problems in the bathroom."
I furtively glanced around the house for their father. Damn, where the heck was he? I was sure bathroom problems and teen boys equaled a situation only a dad should handle. "Wouldn't that be something your Dad is better equipped to handle?" I tentatively questioned.
My other stepson emerged wearing a similiar waistcloth and temporary turban. "Stacey, we need YOU! We're trying to get our hair just right..."
Their hair?! "What on earth are you guys doing to you hair? Don't tell me you bought that automatic hair cutting machine. I warned you about watching infomercials after a kegger..."
Both boys laughed. My older stepson interrupted me, "No, Stacey, we're trying to get blond. But it turned out red!"
Guess they figured out I was a bottle blonde.
He pulled the turban off and I saw streak of orange across the top of his head. I gasped until my other stepson pulled off the towel. His curly mop looked like oversize Brillo.
I never imagined I'd have to run to the beauty supply to fix my stepsons' hair. A few hours later, they were successfully "blonded out" When their dad returned home, he was absolutely scandalized.
"You helped them do this?" he inquisitioned when they gaggled to let him know how much assistance I offered.
I explained the situations I walked into when I got home and he relaxed. "Well, I guess this is better than looking like Carrot Top. But guys, when I was young, coloring your hair meant you were light in the loafers!" (Gosh, why are Irish fathers such homophobes?)
The boys laughed and assured him blonde hair on a guy actually meant the opposite in the modern world. To prove their point, they used the remaining supplies to "blond out" one of their 6'4" thug friends. (He loved the look by the way.)
That night they all showed off their new locks at a club and kegger ending in a fight...guess boys will be boys after all...