Story Time, Excellent

I’m home sick today and ended up sleeping (quite soundly!) from 8am until 2pm. And I still don’t have any energy. This makes for rather a dull day, so I will tell you a story.  

But what story to tell? 

I recently did the 25 Random Things Note on Facebook thing and I’m pretty well storied out. I think that anyone who managed to make it through all 25 things is probably all readed out, because damn did I write a lot. Which is probably why only a couple of people commented on it. Or maybe everyone hates me. 

I’m gonna go with “Hope is Long Winded” for a hundred, Alex.

Anyways, a good story should be entertaining and, if it doesn’t have anything all that deep or profound to say about the world, should at least give you a chance to laugh at me. I’m not feeling particularly deep or profound, so I suppose that it’s time that I sacrifice myself on the alter of self-dignity and let y’all laugh at me instead. 

I have some friends from high school who still call me Smurfette. For very good reason. Lets just say that, when you dye your hair blue, you should make sure that you rinse it out thoroughly. You might even want to lather, rinse and then repeat. Otherwise, you get me: blonde hair, blue skin.

A small visual:

Without the caterpillar, of course.

The best part? I had field hockey practice that afternoon. Hot sun. Lots of sweating. Which just made the dye drip out even more. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail to get it away from my poor, blue face. Which, of course, left me with little blue hands. I promptly washed them in the bathroom. However, our coach chose that day to make us run laps around all of the athletic fields. Which brought us right by the freshman soccer team. Where one of my friends was practicing. He apparently had a crush on me and thought that we were back in first grade, because every single time we ran past their team, he pulled my scrunchie out of my hair (yeah, I was rocking a scrunchie, get over it). 

Either that or he just felt like being a dick. I’m gonna go with “crush on Hope” because it makes me feel better about the mental image of me as Smurfette attempting to put my hair back into a ponytail while getting the least amount of blue dye on my hands as possible. 

Let me remind you that this was something like the second week of high school. If this was some Hollywood movie , I would have spent the rest of high school being called Smurfette and never living this particular incident down. Depending on the genre I would have either a) killed everyone in the school in some horrible, Carrie-like fashion (horror) or b) gotten together with the quarterback of the football team (teen romantic comedy). I’ve never been a fan of disemboweling people and we didn’t have a football team, so I suppose that it worked out well for me that most people forgot about the whole Smurfette thing. 

We’ll just ignore the fact that I gave everyone so many other things to laugh at me about. And go straight into pretending that it was because I was very, very popular and everyone liked me too much to make fun of my blue skin. Also, I redeemed myself with several other more successful dye jobs.

I have since dyed my hair many, many times and with many, many different colors. I even went blue for a period in college. No dripping, I got that part right. And it looked damn good on me. I haven’t gone with a wacky color in some time. Probably because I feel like it wouldn’t be all that appropriate for work. But I did enjoy rocking the crazy dye jobs. Maybe I should reconsider.

What would you consider to be your most embarrassing story from high school?