Over the past …well, always…I’ve collected so many thoughts and memories, that they swirl like a violent hurricane when I put pen to paper, to write. A mentor suggested that I write down all of the memories. Here’s a tiny piece…
I was born in the mid-80′s and was a cute little kid – if, by cute, you mean a baby Richard Simmons girl-child. Although, to be fair, I didn’t begin that way. My mother, either out of contempt or affection (I’m still not sure which) gave us matching afros for a few years. I remember sitting (squirming) in a tall and ridiculously hard kitchen chair as mama yanked my hair half outta my head around curlers and papers. Oh, and smell of perms – like dumping a pail of rotten eggs over your head – could be smelled for days.
I was so excited that first day of rolling papers – for my perm – as I squinted at the small television on the counter! (We also learned I needed glasses that year.) But, I JUST KNEW I’d have these beautiful, cascading curls. Mama said I’d look just like a dark-headed Shirley Temple – and, who doesn’t love Shirley Temple?
Turns out, Mama’s a liar.
Instead of beautiful ringlets, I got a nest of hair that rose with the humidity.
In that same time-frame, I was gifted glasses, but not even the Mickey Mouses perched on the corners of the rims could make up for looking like a four-eyed squinty Bob Ross (minus the beard; that one came in my mid-20′s).
But, seriously, glasses suck. And, if anyone tries to tell you differently, then they are a liar. For the first few weeks of glasses-wearing, I had a patch over my eye. My good eye. I don’t really even know what it means for an eye to be “good.” I mean, it was neither morally corrupt nor unusable. It suited me perfectly fine! I could still SEE. Perhaps, had they just left it alone, I could have been the crazy-eyed buck-tooth bearded lady. But, alas, they took that away from me with eye-patches and braces. With my crazy wandering eye, beard, and fro, I could’ve looked like a mentally disturbed version of Bob Ross…in a dress. The employment opportunities would’ve been endless!
Seriously, though. Glasses. Ugh. Nowadays, teenagers are buying non-prescription glasses just to look “cute.” Really. What on Earth is wrong with these people? Just, why? I remember getting so frustrated in our Kentucky summers because just walking out the front door meant you’d need windshield wipers on your window-face. Sometimes, people would even call you over to “look in the oven” just to see your glasses fog up instantly…or, so I’ve heard.
On one particularly warm hellish day, I had taken off my clown-spectacles because I hate them was hot and sweat was dripping down my face. It wasn’t like I could see through them, anyways. I set them on the back of the car. We found them later at the end of the driveway, all twisted to bits, after someone had run an errand. Of course, my parents blamed me for my carelessness, and I cried – but, not from the loss of the glasses, but because I was going to have to get new ones.