Dyeing Is In The Details, Mrs. Magoo

Last week while I was still living in denial and suffering from old-age blindness because of irrational fears, I tried to dye a pair of shorts.

I bought the cutest pair of green shorts, wore them once, and splashed a bleach on them.

So I decided to be all DIYer, and salvage my shorts by dyeing them green.

But I couldn’t see the dye instructions. I could only make out a few words, and that was it.

I considered wearing my old reading glasses, and using a giant magnifying glass to read the instructions; but then I decided against it because if Hubs wandered through the kitchen while I was dyeing my shorts, and he saw me with my old reading glasses, and a giant magnifying glass, he would have totally made fun of me. By then, Hubs was really tired of my vision-denial-mode; and my irrational fear of our eye-doctor; and he was especially tired of reading menus to me, and of waiters thinking I was illiterate.

Hey Blues, looking for a Clue?

Hey Mrs. Magoo, why don’t you hang that magnifying glass around your neck the next time we go out to dinner?

Yeah, I could totally hear Hubs in my head. And I was not going to ask for his help with the instructions. Period.

I knew Hubs would wander through the kitchen and catch me with the magnifying glass. In Hubs’ mind, I checked my brain at the alter when we got married, and me + an open gas flame + a boiling pot of water + permanent dye = Hubs will definitely wander through the kitchen to spy on me.

So I made up the dye instructions. I decided to wing it, based on what I remembered from dyeing fabric in my seventh grade Home Ec class. And OMG now that I think about it, that was 1980, not 1950, why were they still teaching girls how to cook and sew in school?!

And besides, what’s the worst thing that could have happened….

My shorts could dry, and look like I ran through chlorine sprinklers? Well, that is exactly what happened.

But still, that wasn’t the worst thing…

My seventeen year old son Nic, who tie-dyed one shirt a few weeks ago in his chemistry class, and was a now a tie dyeing expert, could find my not-so-well-hidden shorts, and tell me what I did wrong…

Mom, are those shorts in the mud sink, the shorts you dyed?

“Yes Nic.”

You should have used more than one color, and ties.

And yet still, that wasn’t the worst thing.

Because Hubs saw my shorts…

So the shorts are dry? Huh. I saw them in the laundry room and I thought they were still wet. Did you read the directions? Could you see the directions?

Uhmm. Yeah. The worst thing.


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