This is one of the funniest things I've seen recently.
I totally get it. I've always been a little gangly and a lot awkward.
I joke that I was never a cheerleader and there is good reason. I
would have hurt someone with my flailing arms and poor stabilizer
And, yet, the problem with people like me is that no matter how much
we talk about our failings, somewhere, deep down, we still believe
we're capable real fabulousness. Like the kind you see in magazines -
that's totally airbrushed and mostly computer generated.
Let me give you an example from my day...
There's not a whole lot to say about my hair. It's brown. With layers.
And the early dustings of grey. I blow it dry, and about 85% of the
time, I put it in a ponyta...I'm sorry, excuse me. I must have dozed
off out of boredom.
So, this morning - perhaps inspired by Martin Luther King in a
completely different and superficial way that he never ever intended
and would most likely be mortified by - I had a dream of good hair.
And I had just the tools and extra time to do it.
In rare form, I spent a good 20 minutes curling individual locks of
hair around a curling iron in an effort to get that loose, messy, I-just-woke-up-but-my-hair-just-happens-to-be-all-wavy-and-spectacular look
that's in every magazine right now.
I may have watched an instructional video on YouTube.
Then, just as I was finishing up the coif, the school called. Tee was
sick and needed to come home.
Now, bouncing out the door, despite the fact that neither my hair color or age had changed, I was absolutely certain I looked like this...
When I walked in the office, I was instantly reminded I probably
looked a little more like this...
My sweet 7th grader took one look at me, eyes got huge, and he turned
bright red. He actually buried his face in his hands. As we're
leaving, and I'm chatting it up with a friend, he's literally combing
his fingers through my hair trying to straighten it.
I laughed so hard I almost cried.
So, like Kenny Rogers, I searched deep within my soul for the ace that I could keep from this highly fascinating story. Here it is, my friends...
If your 7th grader has enough self-awareness to be embarrassed, and
enough energy and manual dexterity to try and straighten your hair with his fingers, he's
probably feeling well enough to stick it out through Latin.