7 Times My Dad Was Completely Clueless When It Came To My Style
Oh, fathers. Father daughter relationships never seem to waver, no matter how old we get. They're superheroes with invisible capes and kind eyes, the kind of knights that pick you up when you fall and then teach you to walk it off because, hey, you're a strong type of girl. They were there when you needed the monsters chased away from underneath your bed and they're here now when your adult troubles take on the face of the Boogeyman. You can always count on them for a corny dad joke that'll make the best of us wince, and their warm, loud laugh can turn around even the worst of days.
Dads are wonderful, reliable things. But sometimes, when it comes to their daughters, they can also be absolutely and completely clueless. If the world were seen through their eyes, then there would only be seven different types of colors (none of this frou-frou chartreuse and magenta, as my dad would gravely point out) and all a person would need to go about their day would be a pressed shirt and a shined pair of shoes. Anything outside of that is just plain fussy.
My dad doesn't stray far from that school of thought. The man can build a house from the ground up if he had an inkling to, but when it comes to me, his only daughter in a house full of boys, I might as well be a Sphinx asking him riddle after riddle. He's just... at a complete loss. He proves dads are clueless.
And more times than not, it's completely hilarious. Below are seven times my dad and I both completely and utterly perplexed each other.
1. That One Time He Asked Me If I Cut My Bangs
For most of my teenage life, I had long, raven black hair. All the women on my mom's side looked like they were Slavic Bohemian goddesses with their long, black locks and I was completely obsessed with joining in their club. After about six years though, I was craving a change and decided to go completely and aggressively blonde. I didn't have the patience to do the gradual washing-out process and instead told my stylist to go all-in and just bleach the hell out of my hair. The result was a coppery, brassy type of blonde — granted, not my finest look — but it suited my itch to come out looking dramatically different. Next stop, I thought as I flipped my hair over my shoulder, Goldie Hawn territory.
When I came back home, toeing my shoes off at the front door, my dad passed by and cocked his head, taking in the change. I patted my hair, ready for either the compliments or the blonde jokes.
"Did you cut your bangs?"
The silence that beat on was everlasting.
2. The One Time He Didn't Get Where All My Hair Went
One day I woke up, looked in the mirror, and, frowning, decided to chop off all my hair. I'm not really sure what happened or the thought process involved, but next thing I knew I was walking to my salon, armed with a pixie cut picture and nervous kind of excitement.
I loved it. And hated it. But loved it. When I came home, my dad was at the kitchen table, trying to read a paper without his glasses. He looked up when I came in. And on a slow blink, put down his paper and said, "Welp, looks like I finally got that third son."
So there's that.
3. The One Time He Stared at My Fake Eyelashes in Complete Horror
I walked past my bathroom on my way to my room, did a stutter-step and turned back when I saw my dad hunkered in there, staring at something on the counter in semi-horror. I popped my head in, both curious and slightly scared to find out what got him so riveted.
"What's going on, pops?"
"What... is this... am? Am I looking at a bug here, or....?"
It was a fake eyelash from last night. I told him what was on my eyelids just a few hours prior, and I could tell he was politely keeping the barfing noises on the inside.
4. The One Time He Asked Me Where The Rest Of My Outfit Was
Getting ready to go out as twenty-something living in your parents' house is a funny thing. They stare disapprovingly at you as you curl your hair with a heavy glass of wine at your elbow, and there's always a comment about what you're wearing. My mom constantly tries to put me into homely looking Aunt Gertrude-esque dresses as I'm trying to go to trendy, chi-chi bars, and my dad would love to take it a step further and masking tape me into a Snuggie.
Getting outside that front door is a battle. Of both wits and sheer physical strength.
5. The Time He Asked Me If I Want a Haircut with the Hedge Sheers
Dad jokes. So many dad jokes. If I say my shoe got a hole in it, he offers to patch it up with some plywood and nails. If I'm going out for a haircut, he hoots that he can save me a buck or two by giving me one with the hedge sheers. The corniness goes on and on and on and on. Until I'm not sure if I'm laughing or crying.
6. The One Time He Thought My Weave Was A Dead Animal
I pass him in the hallway as he's carrying something brown-haired and seemingly drowned at the end of a stick. What in the hell is...
Oh my god. It's my weave. What are you doing with my weave?!
He thought something got in through the vents and killed itself in my bathtub. The way I launched myself at him was more than a little bit impressive.
7. The One Time He Almost Threw Out Half My Shoes
Shoes. I own so many shoes. And they take up a bulk of the laundry room, all but avalanche-ing us as we come in through the garage door. But whatever, all of them are completely necessary. Though Miro would have opposing thoughts on that. Which is why I almost tore off my shirt á la South Side Story when he "cleaned up" the shelves and forgot where he stashed all my extra sandals.
Two weeks. It took us two weeks to figure out where he squirreled them away to. He still has yet to be forgiven.
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