I’m supposed to write feel good stories on Mondays. After all, it is the first day of the week for most people. But not for me – I start working on Saturdays so Mondays are like, mid-week for me already which means I am allowed to spiral downwards, like now.
Today’s general crappy issue revolves around my head being so smelly you’d think it’s a toxic chemical waste dump. I hate dyeing (funny it almost resonates like ‘dying’, which what I might be feeling right now) but have to do it every six weeks now because my hair is turning gray faster than I imagined. Goodness, I am just 32. Thirty two year olds should not have gray hair YET, right? Or they do now? Am I missing something? But what do I know, my father had a full head of white hair at 35 (and was always mistaken as my 7 yr old sister’s grandfather instead of her daddy).
The point is, if only my hair isn’t graying, I wouldn’t have to dye it, buy boxes of dye on sale for crying out loud!, I shouldn’t have stayed late last night trying to make it look better, trying to hide the white hairs sticking out when I pony tail my long hair…if only I didn’t have to do all those things, Pristine wouldn’t have that big, purple contussion on her head right now.
You didn’t see that coming did you. I didn’t, either. This is one of those days where I feel like I’m a bad mother.
I was washing my hair in the sink and she was watching me, amazed at the mud like color of the water as I rinsed the dye out. I told her it was late, please go back to the room, select the books for bedtime reading and wait for me there. She immediately said ok, being the obedient girl she is. She turned back and BAAAM!
She hit the half-opened/half-closed bathroom door right behind her. I did not realize the door wasn’t completely open. It was when I last saw it. She didn’t cry. I don’t know if it’s out of total shock or because she felt dizzy or something. I kept saying Oh my God! oh my God! while at the back of my mind, my brain was screaming, “calm down, freak! Go run to get ice!” . I ran to get ice.
Almost immediately, a big contusion developed in her forehead like a mountain rising at a speed of 100 meters per second. The color was horrible – purple, then blackish. It looks painful but she said it’s not so. It was late at night and my mom was already asleep in her room. My husband wasn’t there. I trembled, I was so scared I didn’t realize I was crying. I do not do well during emergencies, that’s why I NEVER chose to become a nurse or doctor.
Or I should’ve forced myself to be so I can deal with these kind of things better?
She was still talking normally (which is a good sign) but still not crying (bad sign in my book). I was battling the urge to call an ambulance if the contusion growth didn’t slow down with the ice pack.
I was there applying cold compress on her forehead, with my shirt wet with my dripping smelly hair. She fell asleep so tired after three straight days of fashion show (which I will blog later once I pick up some happy hormones somewhere). I feel so bad.
It so sucked to be me last night.