Thursday, December 30, 2010

Had to be a goat before I could be a chick...



So this is the hair that I was born with.


Me in about 5th grade
My hair had always been a bit stringy, yet soft and smooth.  But suddenly, in junior high, I got this wiry, kinky, coarse looking hair.  It was strange. It was not good hair at all, and I come from a good hair family. It’s one of our claims to fame. Good hair. Now long legs and skinny hips, that’s some other family’s claim to fame…

So for whatever reason I found myself with this strange hair, in a family full of good heads of hair. Here is a picture I found when this phenomenon was just beginning.


It's still a bit hard to tell, as most of the kinky, wiry stuff is starting underneath my hair, in the nape of my neck.  But, just a few months after this picture was taken I was raging with the wiry, kinky stuff all over my head.  And fortunately for me it occurred at such a great time in my life.  Junior High.  Puberty.  Fun. 

I have another school picture, the one taken a year after this one, when I am full-blown kink.  I dug through all my old pictures but couldn’t find it anywhere. If truth be known, I probably destroyed it, as well as all other pictures of my wiry hair days. For some reason it never dawned on me that I would want to get nostalgic about the effects on my hair during the BIG P. 

To get an idea of my strange hair phenomenon, just look at the picture above and then envision my hair pumped up about 4 times the volume with more kink scattered about.  Sort of think what one would look like if they were to stick their finger in an electrical socket.... 

So anyway, my hair became a bit of a joke with my family and friends. It was Tomi (my best friend’s mother who lived across the street) who first coined it my ‘goat-hair’. I can still hear her:

“My gawd, what the hell has happened to your hair? Let me feel it. Good gawd, it feels like.... like goat hair.”

And from that day forward I had goat hair.

By the time I was in my junior year of high school my goat hair was becoming a distant memory. However, if you pulled my hair up you could still see remnants of my goat hair around the nape of my neck. In fact, there lied my goat hair, at the nape of my neck, all the way into my mid- 20’s. Nothing like being reminded for years about your Big P days and the jokes of goat hair...  But goat hair or no goat hair, I didn't allow my personal tragedy to interfere with my ability to do good hair… (I know, I know.... I just plagiarized Annelle's line from Steel Magnolias.  But, it is such a good line...)

Perming my perm, 1980 something

It’s actually quite miraculous that my goat hair was ever at bay, being that the 80’s hit right after my full flare of goat hair in which I spent most of my leisure time perming my perm, teasing my tressels, and mousseing my gel. I was an 80’s big hair chick and wore it proudly. In fact, I was so good at big hair that I was held charge with hiding holes in all my friends’ hair. Now don’t tell me you didn’t have someone who examined your hair before going out to ensure that you didn’t have any hair holes? Any good friend would be sure and tell you if you had a hole. If I had known you, not only would I have politely told you that you had a hole, but I would have fixed it for you right then and there, as I was always equipped with my comb and a can of hairspray.  Why that Dooney & Bourke saddle bag could hold most anything....  And besides, fixing hair holes was a job I took seriously.



1980's Big Hair Chick

 I was gifted with a supple wrist for hiding holes, and good wrist action was key for big hair in the 80's.  Before going out, many of my friends had to wait for me to stop by their house to fix their holes. (I fixed more hair holes for Sami and Edye than I could ever count….).

1980's Big Hair Chick














And so the 80’s sadly ended and so did my goat hair. Throughout all the torture on my hair in the 80’s I can’t believe I didn’t create permanent goat hair for myself. It’s amazing what our hair can endure….

And so I thought my goat hair would be forever in my past.  After all, my BIG P junior high days are long, long gone and the 80's all but a distant memory...   Or so I thought. 

****  My goat hair is once again rearing its ugly head. ****

Apparently the BIG P and the BIG M have a lot more in common than I would have ever thought… 

But just as I didn't allow my goat hair tragedy to get in the way of doing good hair way back when, I shan't let my goat hair today interfere with my ability to do good Chi.   And guess what? Now I'm thinking, being that my goat hair has reared its ugly head again, perhaps I should begin looking into developing a shampoo for the goat hair challenged.  After all, I developed our No. 145 Lavender Lotion due to my lizard skin, so why not now work on a shampoo for my goat hair? Hmmmmmm.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

You sing it your way and I’ll sing it mine…

So I guess I have always had a bit of difficulty understanding lyrics in songs. And yes, it is true that I have been known to really flub up some words. And yes, in some cases decades have gone by before it has finally been pointed out to me that I have had it ALL wrong for all those years.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has thought:

Later on, we’ll perspire
as we dream by the fire

I had the pleasure of figuring this out last week after Jack picked himself up off the floor with spewed Dr. Pepper down the front of his shirt. I couldn’t figure out why he was laughing and spewing so hard…. So what if it took me four decades and a handful of years to learn that no one was actually perspiring by the fire? I’m really relieved to know they were conspiring and not perspiring; it all makes sense now. I always loved this Christmas song and when it got to the perspiration part it just sort of ruined it for me.

While I’m on the subject I guess I will also confess another one of my little mishaps with words. Now don’t be concerned. It didn’t take me almost five decades to figure this one out. I was at least 13-years-old when I learned the proper wording of this Christmas carol. I’m just smart like that…

So this was my version for the first decade of my life:


Oh well, Oh well, Oh well, Oh well,
Born is the King of Israel

In my young mind I interpreted the song as something like this:


Oh well, so we couldn’t get checked in to one of those cozy Inns. Oh well, we don’t need a stinkin’ Inn. We can have ourselves the King of Israel right here in this mighty fine little manger. Oh well.

In the Christmas program at my church when I was little (in which I never, ever got to be Mary and probably could still use some therapy about that) we always sang Away In A Manger just prior to singing Oh Well  Noel, Noel.  So it just always seemed practical to me that the words in the song were Oh well. I mean after all, they had to settle with a manger and not an Inn. Oh well.

And plus – who knows what Noel means anyway? Jack has since informed me that it means Christmas in French. Who knew? I grew up on the Mexican border. I didn’t know anything in French.

So – in closing I won’t end by wishing you a Mary Christmas. I figured out a LONG time ago that it is Merry Christmas. Again, I’m just smart like that. But – to defend my thinking, I assumed it was Mary Christmas because, you know – it was just sort of a nice gesture to keep Mary’s name front and center since she is sort of responsible for kicking off the whole reason for the season. Oh well.

Feliz Navidad!