Halloween is among my favorite holidays—you get to play dress up, morbidity abounds, and there’s lots of candy involved. What more could a gal ask for?
I decided to get my hair cut that day—partially because I was feeling frumpy and wanted a change, and partially because we had a theme costume party to go to. The theme was “Classic TV”. I really wanted to go as the Golden Girls, but it just didn’t work out. So I decided to go as Angela from My So-Called Life, whom I look nothing like. So I proceeded to get my hair cut into a little bob—the haircut I inevitably always return to after going longer or shorter. I liked it fine when I was at the hair salon, and I didn’t allow myself to look down at the tumbles of patiently grown dark hair falling all around me. But when I got home and looked in the mirror, I instantly decided the haircut somehow made me look fat. And not like Angela at all.
I didn’t realize until later that my fat haircut neurosis coincided with my crash after my glucose screening test that morning—I’d had to down an bottle of orange liquid (how Halloweeny!) with a ton of sugar in about 10 minutes that morning. I don’t consume a lot of sugar, and it showed. I took a short nap and tossed some temporary red dye stuff into my hair and tried to cheer up, but as I donned the oversized flannel shirt for my outfit, I again suffered a fat attack. “The first time someone asks if I’m Rosanne Barr, we’re going home, ‘kay?” I made Scott promise.
Fortunately, Scott was going to the party as Magnum, P.I., and the wig and mustache ensemble I found for him was called the “Eurasian Traveler,” which basically meant Borat. It was impossible to gaze at his dark curly ‘fro and bushy mustache without cracking a smile.
The party turned out to be a blast, and we both shook it up on the dance floor amongst such classic TV icons as Mr. T, Punky Brewster, Ms. Piggy and gentle painter Bob Ross. Our buds even spun some Michael Jackson vinyl and there was a surreal few minutes on the dance floor when all the boys seemed to have disappeared while the girls bounced around to Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, which somehow made me feel old and young at the same time.
And the next morning, guess what? My hair didn’t make me look so fat after all.
1 comment:
Character hair. One time I got a cheap haircut (mistake, obviously) and I looked exactly like Ramona Quimby on the cover of the one in which she cuts her own hair.
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