Green. It's the color of envy, and I'm extremely envious right now, but I don't look green so much, but pale or pallid, washed out. I could try changing my sweater; red isn't my best color, but I'm supposed to wear red for the Christmas concert I'm singing in this morning. I guess I'm stuck with this sweater. Red and green. The colors of Christmas.
And, what do I have to be envious about, really? I've got everything a woman my age should want: a warm house, a loving family, a cute dog, a doting husband, and a gray hair on my head.
Gray. Now there's a color we can all agree to hate. No one likes to look in the mirror and find that color hair staring back at them, and I'm convinced these hairs are alive, have eyes, and a plan of their own - showing up at the most improbable times, like the day before my high school reunion, or just minutes after I opened the Christmas card from my ex-boyfriend this morning - all tanned and happy looking on his Caribbean adventure with his "Having a great time!" salutation - I see them in my reflection, all shiny and new, sitting at the top of my head waving hello.
What should I do? Why, yank those suckers out! And, then walk out to my doting husband, and cute dog, and loving family in my warm house, and thank God I own a red sweater to wear on this cold December morning. Yeah, I could be in Tortola soaking up the sun rays with that man, but I gave him up years go for a reason. (And that reason will come to me, I'm sure!) Besides, how great a time could he be having, really, if he found it necessary to send me a Christmas card from his vacation?
I wonder if, when he thinks of me in my warm house, with my loving family, and my cozy dog, and my doting husband, he gets gray hairs. You know, when I look closer, he doesn't really look that tan to me. On closer inspection, he looks kind of green.
And, what do I have to be envious about, really? I've got everything a woman my age should want: a warm house, a loving family, a cute dog, a doting husband, and a gray hair on my head.
Gray. Now there's a color we can all agree to hate. No one likes to look in the mirror and find that color hair staring back at them, and I'm convinced these hairs are alive, have eyes, and a plan of their own - showing up at the most improbable times, like the day before my high school reunion, or just minutes after I opened the Christmas card from my ex-boyfriend this morning - all tanned and happy looking on his Caribbean adventure with his "Having a great time!" salutation - I see them in my reflection, all shiny and new, sitting at the top of my head waving hello.
What should I do? Why, yank those suckers out! And, then walk out to my doting husband, and cute dog, and loving family in my warm house, and thank God I own a red sweater to wear on this cold December morning. Yeah, I could be in Tortola soaking up the sun rays with that man, but I gave him up years go for a reason. (And that reason will come to me, I'm sure!) Besides, how great a time could he be having, really, if he found it necessary to send me a Christmas card from his vacation?
I wonder if, when he thinks of me in my warm house, with my loving family, and my cozy dog, and my doting husband, he gets gray hairs. You know, when I look closer, he doesn't really look that tan to me. On closer inspection, he looks kind of green.
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