Is that your real face?

I sit before you at the beauty parlor, as my grandmother would call it. As I have written about before, my Oreos, for some reason, do not like when their mother goes gray, so here I am.

I would rather be almost anywhere else. But the last time I tried to color my own hair, it turned a lovely shade of orange, so that was the end of that.

Now there are women, and God bless them, who take much better care of themselves when it comes to hair color (and many other things, but that is for another discussion). Every six weeks. Highlights, low lights, headlights — I have no idea. Just get rid of the gray. The issue, for me anyway, is one of scheduling. And I think that some of you will be able to relate to my latest dilemma. And, believe me, it should be the worst dilemma any of us ever have in our lives.

What do you do when you have a wedding on a Sunday, but you aren’t due to get your hair colored until Monday? I mean, really, it is quite the quandary. How can I go out in public with very noticeable gray? What will become of me? A. Will I become a social pariah? B. Will they not notice my non-botoxed face and just concentrate on the hair? Or C. Will they take one look at me, not care at all, and look to the next person to find someone more interesting? I am going with C.

Everyone is so worried about what they look like, but no one really cares what you look like. So I washed my hair, put some powder over the roots, and called it a day. And the wedding was just as enjoyable as if I had had my hair professionally colored.

I love going to weddings where I am not a member of the community of the hosts of the wedding. It is a people-watcher’s dream. Sure, you see people who you’ve known for years and years, and sure, you wonder if you are aging the same way they are, but it is still nice to know that people who didn’t give you the time of day 40 years ago still do not give you the time of day.

In fact, the best way to aggravate these people is to be extra friendly to them. Yes, I can be a terrible person.

I was also curious about the faces of the women my age who now look like they are wearing a mask of their own face from when they were younger. Do you know what I am talking about? Is that surgical? Injectable? Is it an actual mask that you blow up with some air and gently apply to your real face? I guess that is a question for the plastic surgeons in the audience. (Do I have any plastic surgeons in my audience? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Just kidding. You can do whatever you want.)

In any event, if you have ever been to a Jewish wedding of late, you know that the singer is always the “big thing.” This happened at my own kids’ weddings as well. Of course, at Son #1’s wedding, I had never heard of the singer we had, but now he is my good buddy (in my mind anyway) and I always like seeing him at other simchas. In fact, at this most recent wedding, we had a whole discussion about another singer we both know. And no, it wasn’t Rick Springfield — I am waiting to be invited to a wedding where Rick Springfield is the headliner. Now that would be something.

The singer we spoke of was someone I had met in Israel. I didn’t realize who he was at the time when I was talking about him. I knew the songs he sang, but I didn’t know his name. And, when I was talking to him, for over an hour, I knew his name, but I didn’t realize which singer he was, until Son #3 told me much later.

Does that make sense? In any event, I was telling him how much singers at weddings in America make, and he told me there was no way that was true. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to prove my knowledge, but it seemed to really frustrate him. That’s the whole story. Very anti-climactic, I know, but you should be getting ready for Passover anyway….

Mazal tov to all the pre-Pesach newlyweds!

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is always so happy to see her friends from the Island of Long … especially when they are all on her side of the bridge!