Tuesday, 19 November 2013


Whorrified, Marie Sutherland, G-ma,
LET'S JUST IGNORE, FOR A MOMENT, the impossibility of the fact that anyone who looks like this could possibly have grandchildren and focus on more pressing global issues. Such as my hair. What colour would you say it is? No, seriously. I need to know.

In the weeks ahead, my friends, you are going to be treated to an unimaginable smorgasbord of hair delights. You're going to see me sporting any number of outlandish contraptions on my head ... I won't get into the specifics but let's just say it could be anything from wigs to buckets ... and if any of it strikes you as ridiculous you can blame it on my daughter's kids. Or, as people with healthier self-images call them, my "grandchildren."

They're incredibly cute and smart and funny, but make no mistake, they can pierce your heart with a single innocent sentence. As can any child, because unlike Toronto's chief kitten-muncher, they have not yet learned to lie their butts off in the face of obvious truth. 
Which is why these words came out of the perfect little rosebud lips of the younger one when I paid her a visit last week: "G-ma (*sounds remarkably like 'Geena,' should anyone hear her hailing me in public), I can't tell what colour your hair is." 
How adorable, I thought, the little poppet is learning her colours! 
"Really?" I gurgled. "Well what colour do you THINK it is?"
Yeah. Like an idiot. Walked right into it.
"Well," she began earnestly, "that's the twicky part. From the back, it's blonde. But from the fwont it's black. Heh-heh. It looks kinda funny." 
Ouch. Ouch! OUCH! Out of the mouths of babes shoot poison darts. 

For weeks, I've been ignoring the mess going on up there. I've been putting off the inevitable while trying to decide if I should go back to my natural Brazilian brunette (not cool right now, thank you very much, dirty tatted hooker); retouch the peroxide blonde or maybe take everything in a drastic new direction. I was planning to take my time and come to a considered decision, but thanks to little miss truthiness, that plan has been blown out of the water. No pressure, G-ma, but you look friggin' WEIRD!
So as I say, some new looks coming up soon. Feel free to weigh in and tell me whether you like them or not. Heaven knows the ice has already been broken in that regard.