soapboxdiner

Don't go in the water

Monday - Labor Day, 2003. Big plans for the day?

Two haircuts (one for me and one for the kid) and some fence building. I may have to pace myself.

When I was a kid, I remember standing in front of my mother. She'd put an afghan over her lap and hold me by the top of my head. She'd run her brush through my hair, where it promptly snagged on the tangles therein. She'd rip through them, bless her heart. Stroke rip stroke. When she was done, she'd shake the afghan out and sweep up a wopping pile of hair from the floor. It's a good thing she had that throw blanket. Lord knows we couldn't have her running off to work looking like she had a cat with 3 foot long hair.

I remember desperately wanting her to style up my locks in Princess Leah buns. That would have been SO COOL, said my 5-year-old self. Mom isn't really a hair person though, so fancy buns were fairly above her abilities.

Several years later, she took it into her head to give me a haircut. Remember now, my father refused to allow anyone to cut my hair. It was past my waist and midway to my upper thighs. Right at butt level, to be precise. My hair must be long for first communion or some other ridiculous reason his alcohol muddled brain concocted(despite the fact that never once had he ever taken any of us to mass and Mom was a practicing Presbyterian). Mom cut it. And cut and cut and cut it because she couldn't seem to get it straight. By the time she (and later that afternoon, my aunt who was a trained beauticean) was done, I had a feathered bob with bangs.

Picture, if you will, a chunky little 8-year-old with gap teeth and those early 80s massive plastic glasses, a feathered bob and those hideous gym-type short shorts. You pretty much have a picture of SBD, circa 1981.

Today, sitting at this computer with my outgrown pixie do covering my eyes a la Cousin It, waiting for my 11 o'clock date with hair destiny, all I can imagine is how really freaking fabulous it would be if I shaved the whole messy mop of it off and it never grew back.

Well, until winter anyway. I hate icy cold windblown ears.

I don't know about the fence building, darlings. I may have overextended myself.

9:30 am - 09.01.03
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