I'm just back from getting my hair cut...which is exciting only because I went in with the intent of chopping it all off. I go through this every year, which makes me think it's some sort of seasonal disorder, but it's still on my head, people, in all of its long glory, so no need to panic.
I love my stylist. She is a super sarcastic, funny, spitfire of a woman. She was telling me about her recent vacation to Alaska with her mother and all of her siblings...it was the kind of vacation in which many of her descriptions started with "We were SO HUNG OVER but we went bear watching and managed not to get eaten or maimed. But I threw up in the bear viewing hut on the tour guides galosh." Sweet.
Her mother came in near the end with photos of the vacation, and my stylist handed them to me as she looked through them...which is awkward, isn't it? When you don't know anyone in the photos but are expected to "ooo" and "aaah" over them and ask leading questions that you don't care to know the answer to?
But then she passed me a photo and goes "These are my three brothers." And there he was...the boy who asked me to senior prom who I said yes to but then had to cancel on because my parents decided that prom was the devils party and a boy might GRAZE MY BOOB with his hand ON PURPOSE. Or KISS ME. Ergo, I had to go through the humiliation of saying, a week before the prom "You know, I can't go. My parents are trying to turn me into a social pariah and are succeeding. Can I borrow your math notes?"
It was ugly. He ended up going with some other girl, and I stayed home, crying, for about a month, plotting my parents ugly and painful demise. My mom, meanwhile, told me that I should pray for contentment and perhaps listen to some soothing hymns. I got over it (and started listening to punk music, go figure), but seeing that photo brought back such a rush of memory; I felt my face turn bright red.
My stylist looked at me and said "Are you OK? I know it's hot out, but you're totally flushed!" I just laughed it off and handed her back the photo, deciding not to reveal that I had caused her brother some serious irritation 15 years ago. Especially since I'd like my haircuts NOT to resemble something that was backed over by a lawn mower. Let's keep that hair even, shall we?
It's just as well. The dress I had planned on wearing that night was pretty hideous, so besides avoiding having my boobs groped, I'm spared the historical documentation of my poor fashion tastes. See? There's an upside to everything.
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3 comments:
great story, small world no?
ironically enough, I served two tours in the Legion with that same person.
I refrain from using the word gentleman because as it turned out, he was a lout and was discharged from our regiment after it was discovered he was syphilitic.
Perhaps you should thank your parents, for in the long run, it was best to break your heart then and there rather than in a letter from our commandant saying your lover had been felled in a knife fight on the outskirts of Tunis defending what was left of his honor.
And perhaps I've had too much wine
baby, your boobles are always the upside.
kenny should write civil war era novels when he's inebriated. i'm thinking this is a cash cow just waiting to be milked! can't you see us simultaneously handing him glass after glass while beating him to "write faster!"
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