July 5, 2015:
Went to get my #anniversarytoes done.
First thing the technician, named Chi, did was admonish me not to choose a pale color. In her strong Vietnamese accent, and against the staccato of one hand slapping her arm, she said, “Pale colors not for our skin.”
Suprised by her so strongly identifying connection. intrigued and a little amused by this maternal and bonding moment between two browns (though, to be clear I thought I was the only obviously brown in the room) from vastly different places…I settled into my seat, untangling the soft cadence and twists and turns of her speaking voice punctuated by exclamatory eyes and parenthetical eyebrows. Listened to stories of her youth, how her family had fled Vietnam during the war to survive. How they left behind everything: friends, way of life, all their possessions, which were then confiscated, claimed by others. How they had never intended to stay here– had been headed to France–but had had trouble with the papers and so by default, remained.
“No…that’s no good color for you. For us, this is good”
I like it, I say.
I turn over the bottle to see the color: Happy Wife, Happy Life
The amusement builds into laughter that now tumbles from my mouth.
My anniversary is Monday, I explain to her question mark eyes. I’m getting ready for it 🙂
“Ooohhh!” More laughter.
“Tell your husband I say, good sign!”
I’ll take it.