I have super thin, curly hair. It looks like crap pretty much all the time. In high school, before it changed from thick 'n' wavy to thin, sad 'n' curly, I used to wear a smooshing down hat on my walk to school. I'd remove the hat just as I finished my mile trudge and hit school grounds. Because when you are 15, you care far too much. Flat, post-hippy hair was the goal. Now I just want to not scare myself when I walk past reflective surfaces.
I once had a boss who had Tourette's and refused to acknowledge it. I'm not sure he knew. His one strong, repetitive tic was a shoulder shrug while talking and it took Herculean (Wonder Womanly?) effort on my part to decipher, depending on the conversation, whether he was wound up or he wanted me to know he was genuinely blasé about how I developed the PowerPoint presentation.
He asked me in the job interview, as one of those questions, what weakness I had, and I said something about my hair being out of control. I was 22. He laughed and offered me the job. What the hell, twenty-two-year-old me? That was so flippant and gross. What the hell?
Hair and work just go together. There was the job where the human resources person called me nappy-headed and then explained how her people would one day destroy Israel. She was best drinking buddies with the head of HR, so there was no one, really, to go tell. Also, she had several assault convictions, so I think maybe they already knew that she had Issues.
She also would lock herself in the lunch room and chant "I hate those mother f)ckers" at her salad.
No, please, do not mediate my grievance.
It's hot here. The West Coastians are limp and whining, Oh, it's so hot. We’re so hot. Ye gods, but it is hot! And I try to refrain from going all old man/high-waisted pants on them, You don't know from hot! In Boston, we had humidity! Here you have a nice, dry heat! Oy, you don't know from the dampness! Instead I just slam a hand on my frizzy, frizzy hair and look sympathetic.
4 comments:
Hey now, no fair! In the east coast, houses have AIR CONDITIONING. (Don't they?)
You have my sympathy.
I have the fine, curly hair, but lots of it. I managed to keep it under control until I moved to Texas. Every summer, in the humidity, my hair tries to escape the state and drag me along with it.
Oy, the humidity. And Ericka, you'd be surprised by the number of houses that don't. Mostly, fans and one-room-at-a-time AC-- usually the bedroom. We just sweat the rest of the time.
I am with you on the fine hair and the useless curls. In mid July, one side of my head is flat, the other wavy in a just-went-through a tornado way.
I like your hairs. Curly and uninhibited is the way to go. I liked the darker color the last time we were in person.
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