The Hair Of The Dog

People say weird things to me.

For instance, over the weekend, there was a small incident when I went shopping with my daughter.

I had made a slight effort with my appearance on Saturday.

In other words, I wasn’t in my usual yoga pants and tank top.

My fashion-savvy daughter even commented to me, “I like that whole thing you’ve got going on today.”

In other words, I’m one hip mama during the 1% of my life when I don’t slob out.

I had on black skinny jeans, a Free People shirt, I wore a cross body Proenza Schouler purse, and had a trendy Pyrrha necklace on.

As usual, my red glasses were perched haphazardly on my head.

I even had my fancier (sparkly!) flip flops on.

As I rode down a mall escalator with my daughter, a seemingly very nice woman behind me leaned forward to say,

“I LOVE your toes.”

My daughter and I glanced down at my feet.

This week I’m (still) wearing pink toenail polish. ┬áMy “big” toes have purple polka dots on top of the pink.

“Thank you,” I replied automatically.

The woman leaned closer and smiled.

She looked as if she was about to confide something important.

“I put hair on my dog,” she said with a grin.

There was a pause as my brain attempted to grasp what she had just said.

Toes … purple polka dots … hair ON dog …?

My daughter, who is accustom to life in L.A., quickly quipped back,

“Well, I was expecting just about anything but that.”

The woman grinned, delighted.

Taking my daughter’s response as encouragement, she began prattling on about putting various colors of hair on her dog.

I was pretty sure she had maybe been drinking the hair of the dog instead of putting hair ON her dog?

Regardless, the encounter was over shortly after we stepped off the escalator.

Later that night, I texted my daughter to confirm the entire conversation had really transpired as I remembered it.

“That definitely happened,” she texted back.

“She was probably drunk?” I asked in a return text.

“Mhmm,” my daughter replied noncommittally.


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