Remembrances Poem by bob barci

I remember
when I was 12 or 13
my sister,3 years older,
gave me what I thought
was really great advice.
She said –
“Bobby, just because you’re a boy,
it doesn’t mean you don’t have to take care of your hair.
Boys have to take care of their hair just like girls do.
You should find the shampoo that works best for YOUR hair.”
Ok, terrific,
but, hold onto that thought for a minute.
Shampoo?
What did I know from shampoo?
I always washed my hair
with whatever soap was in the soap dish.
Was this good advice
or just her, trying to get me to
NOT use HER shampoo that she might leave in the bathroom?
Anyway,
I went to the store and was baffled.
There were a zillion and one brands of shampoo.
And each one had a formula for oily, normal and dry hair.
Which should I use?
Each and every brand made the claim
that it would make my hair clean, soft, shiny, and manageable.
And here I thought – hair was hair.
I picked a bottle at random.
It worked fine.
But, would another brand do even better?
Another bottle – another brand.
That one worked just as well too,
and neither I, or anyone else, noticed any difference.
Eventually,
I discovered that no one brand of shampoo
made my hair any cleaner, softer, shinier, or more manageable than any other.
And the shampoo
that I could buy a gallon of for a penny,
worked just as well as the shampoo
that sold for $10 for an ounce.
So, which should I buy?
I got a different brand each time.
I favored the ones (continued) FTR
that were a “beautiful color”.
I favored the ones
that made my hair smell like apples or strawberries or something.
I remember
using one that was a beautiful shade of red and smelled like apples.
However,
after using it,
I discovered that the red color of the shampoo,
stayed on my hair and for weeks
everyone insisted I dyed my hair.
No one would believe I didn’t.
I remember
a few years later,
my sister and one of her girlfriends – both blondes,
used some stuff called “Sun In” one summer.
With the aide of the sun
it made their hair even blonder.
One day, they cornered me,
and “attacked” me with a bottle of it.
They wanted to see how it would work on my dark hair.
Well,
the next thing I know,
my sister and all of her girlfriends
were telling me that they would kill for my hair color.
They called it the most perfect shade of auburn.
I still don’t know exactly what color or shade that is.
And now – uuummmmm – 40 years later,
with my white coming in –
I’m dyeing to find out.