I have really, seriously got to get over my obsession with punch-colored hair.
I see a girl with hair the color of Grape and I desperately want to be the kind of person who could rock that.
I'm too freaking old to turn my hair into shiny, glossy, awesome strands of purple. Or orange, I could do orange. But no! That's the problem, I can't do orange! I'm the mother of two daughters who would never stop laughing at me. I couldn't go to a parent-teacher conference and talk solemnly about math and social studies with Grape hair.
On the other hand, I'm 99% sure it would keep other parents from trying to make small talk with me in the hall while I waited for my parent-teacher conference.
I don't like other mothers of fourth-graders. With very, very few exceptions, they are a bunch of old married women who think their husbands are retarded and that swapping canned tuna recipes is a good time. They all smile a little too wide and chat in a voice that's too high-pitched to be authentic.
The worst part is, I turn into them when they talk to me. Because I don't have any other defense. I can't really say, "Are you serious? You actually give a shit about PTA politics?"
I'm taking Matilda to a school-sponsored skating party tonight where I'm going to rock my mental purple hair and knit a lot, which hopefully will make me seem odd and unapproachable.