A Hairy Situation

My mom was up for education week and so I was able to spend the evening with her on Wednesday. So of course, as always happens when spending time with family, we began recounting stories from my childhood, and recounting embarrassing stories to roommates, etc. That night was no exception, but I came to a realization that I have an unnatural number of hilarious stories to do with my hair! There is of course the story of my "china tail" and the escapade of shearing it off (see earlier post) but there are a few other classics that I will share with you, in case you are in need of a good laugh. Here they are:

Story 1. When I was four I cut off my bangs. And I mean cut them off, right to the scalp. So I was downstairs by myself in the kitchen, just hangin out, and thinking to myself (I was a deep child) and I remember looking in the small 1x1 in mirror on our microwave that is above (and below) the handle and thinking, "Alicia doesn't have bangs.... I wonder how she has no bangs.... ohh, i bet she just cuts them really short... like up at her scalp, ya that makes sense. Hmmm, I wonder what I would look like without bangs..." I open up the drawer below the microwave and find a pair of sharp, bright orange-handled scissors. Score! So, clearly, the next logical step is to fashion myself a new haircut. Snip, Snip, SNIP!!!!!! All this being done in the miniscule mirror of our microwave - which i am surprised I could even see over the counter, let alone into the mirror. Then, just as I'm finishing, who enters the room but my sister Nicole, and what does she see? me facing the counter with a pile of golden hair clippings at my feet. Her reaction? "Monique...?" (said in a slow, suspicious, but catious voice as if dealing with someone dangerous who might flip out on you with one wrong move). I freeze, slowly and quietly set the scissors back in the open drawer and close it. Then reply as calmly and cassually as I can, "Ya?". Nicole: "What are you doing?" Me: Wipping around a look of utter panic on my face and instant tears "Don't tell mom!!!!" (because there's no way she would notice the subtle change of her youngest daughter who was still dependent on her for help in many things... and spending all day with her while my sisters were at school... nope she'd have no idea.) Nicole: kindly and understandingly (but with a look of shock) "It's ok, I won't." I'd have believed her too if she didn't turn around and run out of the room as the sounds of the last words were still making their way out of her mouth. So she runs out of the room and screams "Mom!!" Me: Instant panic! I gather up the hair and dive under the couch and begin army crawling my way to the middle and curl up in a ball. (Wicker furniture though, kind of easy to see through and under...) I hear footsteps, followed by urgent and worried whispers, "Don't get mad at her mom, I told her I wouldn't tell!! She didn't know what she was doing!!" (Kudos to my mom who played it very cool and had much patients with me). Mom: "Monique..." I don't move... because clearly I am invisible and she doesn't know where I am, so I don't want to give away my position. "Monique, come out from under the couch..." Me: doh!!! How'd she find me? She's a clever one that mom... So I slowly crawl out, but I was clever too. I stood with my back to her. Mom: "Come here..." I slowly begin walking backwards to her, but still kept my distance. "Turn around..." a quick shake of the head. "It's ok hunny, just turn around..." Slowly I obey with my head hung in shame. Mom: "Why did you cut your bangs?" Me: "Alicia has no bangs.." (I don't know how my mom kept it together at this point and didn't just start laughing at me) At this point she shows me Alicia's bangs and that they are just long enough to be pulled back and blend with the rest of her hair. So for the following months-year I had spikey fly-aways that could not be tamed. Lucky for me it was still acceptable to wear the thick cloth head bands over your hairline. :)

Story 2. I was a child in the early 90's aka era of bad fashion. One of the fads and fashions of the time happened to bows... big bows... big, cloth bows. I didn't perticularly like this fashion, but my mom did, and perhaps my sisters too. Thus my mom made many cloth bows for us and when she did my hair she'd top it off with one of these beauties. I never liked it, but she spent so much time on my hair, and she thought they looked good so I never said anything because I didn't want to hurt her feelings and I didn't want to sound ungreatful and whiney. So I wore bows. Big bows. Big bows made of fabric. Silky fabric. Well one day My mom was doing my hair for school (1st grade) and that was the day we learned about opposites. It's mid afternoon, about an hour before we get out for the day and we break up into groups and we are rotating between stations, and I was at the station where we learned about opposites. I was sitting next to the boy I liked and eager to learn. So our teacher explains the concept of opposites and concludes her shpeal by saying, "For example, Amy has a little bow; Monique has a BIG bow!!" (As she said big, her eyes reflected the size, and her voice went down an octave.) My face went an instant red and I just looked at the table as everyone's eyes were upon me and my bow. My big bow. my big fabric bow. my big silky fabric bow. Funny thing? I think I still wore them after that day. Oh what it would be like to be resiliant as a child again!

3. This story is a little different. It did not happen when I was a little child, naive and learning. I was in high school. I was on the school's soccer team and needed to keep my "bangs"/flyaways out of my face while I practiced and played. So, I used to wear rubber bands as a head band. Not hair ties, or the elastic bands made for hair, but rubber bands: bright color-stretchy-come around a newspaper-rubber bands. Well I guess one day I get one that was a little too small, because I noticed the next day that I had a bald spot about an inch from my hairline that ran perpendicular to my part. That's right, BALD!!!! it was probably a half an inch long. I just kept running my finger over it wondering where the hair went. I moved the other hairs around it, maybe thinking they were hiding behind the surrounding hair. But they weren't. They were GONE! And I was left with a peach patch on my head. This was this time when the side part was starting to make is debut, so side parts were in, but parts down the middle were still quite acceptable. I was still sporting the middle part, but that day I decided to try out the side part and hide my new little friend. That day I didn't really get ready, I wore an old spirit shirt, had no make up, etc. But everyone was telling me how pretty I looked, and that I looked different but they couldn't put their finger on what it was. So thanks to my peachy, fleshy friend/mishap, I moved forward and joined my friends in the better sense of fashion. So here's to you my little bald spot. Hear, hear.
*Side note for all concerned readers, I am no longer bald, the hair did grow back in that spot, but it was too late, I was already converted to the side part, and there was no going back.