Give Me a Head With Hair
What purpose does hair really serve? It’s not as though it keeps bacteria off of your skull or prevents sunburn or even provides that much warmth in the winter. In fact, through most of my life hair has served mainly one purpose: public embarrassment.
Elementary school laid the foundation for my realization that I had the wrong kind of hair. Everyone else had long, straight Marsha hair and I looked as though I stepped off of the set of Capt. Caveman. Leaving me associated with a different kind of cool club, the kind with a little bird inside holding a flame like a flashlight.
Humidity didn’t help the situation at all. In an air-controlled environment my hair looked great, but one foot out of the door and suddenly I could hear the tick-tick-tick-tick-BOOM as the Afro-Sheen started to work its magic.
The bus ride to school in that kind of weather just compounded the problem. Kids seated in front of me would lower their windows, which would allow that southern moisture to blow my hair into a frizzy frenzy, so that by the time I arrived I had waves large enough to warrant a small craft advisory.
Surf’s up!
No matter what the trend was at the time, my hair didn’t cooperate. If tight, styled curls were fashionable, mine was long and wavy. If straight, silky Oh-Mighty-Isis hair was the choice of the day, mine was, um, long and wavy.
And not the long, wavy Charlie’s Angels hair, mine was more like Medusa. And to think all of that misery was due to humidity. Gels or hairspray didn’t work out well. All that seemed to do was just hold the wrongness of it all in place for the rest of the day, kind of like Medusa looking at herself in the mirror.
Even though I am living in the south again, thankfully, I don’t have those problems anymore, mostly because two things have been revealed to me: (1) a flat iron, and (2) I’m big enough to kick that kid’s ass now.
But I’ll refrain from the second, unless he leans over the seat and stares at me for too long - then it’s on! Remember, I still have that club.
Elementary school laid the foundation for my realization that I had the wrong kind of hair. Everyone else had long, straight Marsha hair and I looked as though I stepped off of the set of Capt. Caveman. Leaving me associated with a different kind of cool club, the kind with a little bird inside holding a flame like a flashlight.
Humidity didn’t help the situation at all. In an air-controlled environment my hair looked great, but one foot out of the door and suddenly I could hear the tick-tick-tick-tick-BOOM as the Afro-Sheen started to work its magic.
The bus ride to school in that kind of weather just compounded the problem. Kids seated in front of me would lower their windows, which would allow that southern moisture to blow my hair into a frizzy frenzy, so that by the time I arrived I had waves large enough to warrant a small craft advisory.
Surf’s up!
No matter what the trend was at the time, my hair didn’t cooperate. If tight, styled curls were fashionable, mine was long and wavy. If straight, silky Oh-Mighty-Isis hair was the choice of the day, mine was, um, long and wavy.
And not the long, wavy Charlie’s Angels hair, mine was more like Medusa. And to think all of that misery was due to humidity. Gels or hairspray didn’t work out well. All that seemed to do was just hold the wrongness of it all in place for the rest of the day, kind of like Medusa looking at herself in the mirror.
Even though I am living in the south again, thankfully, I don’t have those problems anymore, mostly because two things have been revealed to me: (1) a flat iron, and (2) I’m big enough to kick that kid’s ass now.
But I’ll refrain from the second, unless he leans over the seat and stares at me for too long - then it’s on! Remember, I still have that club.
posted by On My Watch at 07:06
10 Comments:
You could always turn that "kid" to stone ;)
yeah, that's true, but clubbing him over the head just has so much more appeal. :)
Oh, I'm so sorry for making fun of Specter. Obviously, that post was one of projection and a cry for help. Just as clothes don't make the man neither does hair make the woman. Specters hair is fine, just fine. Frizzy people have feelings too.
You guys are hilarious!! I appreciate the sentiments, but like I said - - those frizzy days are LONG GONE!!!
The humidity no longer affects me - maybe it's global warming or something. :)
You should club him over the head AFTER he turns to stone!
John, only if he cracks up first and then slowly falls apart and crumbles to the ground. :) I've seen way too many cartoons.
Thank God for hair! The world doesnt need to see my mishapen skull. I fell asleep on a table in a library once. I woke up and some bling guy was reading the bumps on my head. Bah-ZING!!
i know a guy that hit a car while backing up because a girl in the back seat had such a huge perm, she blocked his view.
captain cave ave ave man!!
my hair is so super straight.. i always wanted curly hair!!
Ray - hmm. Wonder if he learned anything new?
Phoenix - that's hilarious! I wonder if that went down on the accident report?
Mindy - I guess people always want what they don't have. YAY, Caveman yell! whoo-hoo!
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