May 01 2006
Mommy, why does Daddy have a window in his hair?
My husband, who does not read this blog (Hi, honey!) thinks that I use my little corner of the ‘net as a means of writing His Life in Ridicule, so I thought I’d try to live up to that expectation today.
When I met him, he was only 22, fresh out of college. He had long hair, kept in a ponytail, a full beard, an earring. I liked it. Now, many years later, he has very short hair, a goatee, and an earring and I still like it. Once, he went bleach blond and I even liked that. Evidently, I just like him any way I can get him (but, according to him, not nearly as often as he would like to be gotten).
There is one thing that has remained pretty consistent from age 22 until now, and that is the bald spot. Last year, our daughter, Jadyn, asked me why daddy had a window in his hair. hahahah Gawd, I love kids.
Really, though, there are lots of advantages to having short hair. And less coverage of the ol’ noggin just means less hair, right?
For example, me, I have to shampoo, rinse, condition, rinse, use all manners of product that claim they will successfully tame my Ted Nugent hair. (By the way? Dream Curls by the Frizz-Ease people is WONDERFUL… Run out and try it now!) And having all this hair means spawning little hair monsters that clog up the drains. Bill will come to me with a gross clump of brown hair and say “What would you like me to do with Little Linda here?” My hair ends up everywhere… strands of it on the office chair, on whatever clothing I choose to wear, on the bed, in the bathroom sink. I distinctly remember that with my last two babies, there were times I found a strand of my hair tightly wound around their little sweet pink fingers, cutting off their little baby circulation. Evidently, my hair is also dangerous like that.
But short hair? Bald heads? None of those problems exist. He can have his hair washed and ready - and dry - in about 12 seconds flat. Haircuts? Ha! Free and easy - we have the Remington home clipper thingie that takes about 3 minutes to give him that professionally cut pseudo-military look. We don’t spend fortunes in hair product to make his buzz cut behave. No need for combs, clips, scrunchies, etc.
Really, though, the real advantage is all about the lice. Yes, I said it. We’ve had lice. More than once too. Evidently, they said “Man, these people have GREAT hair! Let’s go back every spring for an annual vacation or something.” Yes, our hair is like the Gulf Shores of the lice world. I swear. I went my whole life NEVER having them and then the summer my oldest daughter worked a girl scout camp, she brought them home. That was when we lived at the old house and they probably found it a little cramped and drafty, much like we did. They didn’t come back. But then we moved to a new house and ever since then, BAM, every spring they come for a little visit.
I picture them up there drinking little tiny pina coladas in little tiny beach chairs. I’m almost certain that the itching is caused by little tiny conga-lines and limbo dancing and such. And the tiny lice fornication! Ack! You can’t even believe it… these little fuckers are doing it NIGHT and DAY.
My 9 year old daughter gets it the worst. Fortunately, her two little sisters have been spared. When my older daughters lived here, back in the old house, they got it too. Me? Yeah, quite sure there are conga lines going on up there. I make my husband check, obsessively, and he continues to tell me “There’s nothing there!” but I’m convinced he just isn’t a very good lice spotter and they ARE there! So I make the 9 year old check and she finds nothing - but the itching, oh the itching. My husband thinks I’m cuckoo and they are all phantom itches but but but….
This, my friends, is the area where having military short hair pays off. They want nothing to do with his hair. It offers them no protection at all. Can you see it - the little tiny lice come to the edge of the bald spot and they turn into little CIA operatives, looking left, then right, then one says to the rest of them - in sign language so as not to alert anyone - “You all go, I’ll cover you. Quick - make a break for it!” and they try to make it across the bald spot before the HAND comes up and brushes them off (where they would, of course, then take cover in MY hair, two and a half feet to the left in the bed).
Nope, he doesn’t get bothered. They leave him alone altogether. So he has none while I deal with armies of them, both real and imagined. I’ve gotten so good at it, I’m starting to think it might be my CALLING or something. I’ll open a business, hire a tough looking bald spokesperson like Mr. Clean, come up with a catching slogan like “We ain’t NICE to LICE.” and spend my day battling their conga lines and limbo games on the heads of other people’s children. I’d charge $150 per head, results guaranteed. Yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket. I’ll be known as Lousy Linda or Linda the Lice Lady.
Admit it, this whole post has made you start scratching your head. What are the chances that setting #2 on the Remington clipper thing will ever be in style for women??? I mean, Sinead tried but no one really followed. Maybe if we ALL decide on the same day to just do away with the damn hair, we’d solve all these stupid problems. Hmmm…. (scratching head) - great idea, eh? I’m game… are you?
(Oh, good lord– do you have any idea how many hits I got about toe fungus??? I’m really almost scared to post this, but here goes nothing….)
