About Me

There Once Was A Girl

A whisper, “Medusa.”

Muffled snickers and laughs I barely hear and try to ignore.

Again, a whisper, “Medusa, can I rat your hair?” from the person sitting behind me in class.

I wonder again why I was born with ugly, wild, dark, untamed, curly hair.  Why couldn’t I have been born with straight, BLONDE hair like my classmates?

I’m reluctant, but in the spirit of cooperation let them rat my hair.

I sit on the floor as my Dad blow dries my hair.  I hate having my hair blow dried.  I hate that my scalp is tender and hurts when he tries to brush it.

I know it’s 20 degrees outside or colder and I can’t go to bed with wet hair.  But I don’t like it.

The brush gets tangled and finally the handle breaks off.  The next day, Dad insists that I get a short haircut.

There was a little girl who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead

When she was good, she was very, very good,

And when she was bad she was horrid.

– Mother Goose

I remember my Nana quoting this to me one day as a small child.  I assume it was a day when I tended toward horrid rather than good yet I don’t remember the reason just the rhyme.

It was very appropriate for both my hair and my attitude.

Sweating I take a break from dancing and walk toward the club entrance for some air.

Some guy, “Your hair is gorgeous.”

Me, “Thanks.”

Guy, “I’ll pay you $400 if you let me videotape while I cut it.”

Me, “Umm…no thanks.”

young girl with curly hair

Cute, huh?

This post is linked up with Red Writing Hood over at Write On Edge.  This week’s prompt?  Hair.  Go visit and show some love to the other bloggers.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

See you soon!

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About Me, All Things Geek and Wonderful

Mean Kids

The current  internet hub-bub surrounding the young girl bullied for liking Star Wars lends credence to my theory that some kids are just plain MEAN.

(If you’re not sure what I’m talking about check out the blog post here).

I’m always astounded when people talk about how nice and sweet kids are.  Have these adults not been around children for awhile?  Have they conveniently forgotten Dennis the Menace and the whole gang from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?  That kid from the abhorrent, face-slapping Home Alone series?

Kids are mean.  I remember being picked on because I was smart, liked to read, wasn’t considered pretty, and enjoyed being a bit of a tomboy.  I remember one kid that liked to pinch me until I bled.  I remember being tripped by a kid and falling down and breaking my nose in gym class.

I know, and sadly enough Katie the Star Wars Girl has found out, that kids come in all flavors just like adults.  I hope Katie finds those friends who will accept her for who she is and what she likes, and stays away from those kids that, despite the best efforts of their parents, grow up to be the Good Son.

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