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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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8:48 p.m. - 2003-05-05
I totally don't feel 40 today. I'm having an attack of high self-esteem and bounced around like a kid. There's nothing particularly wonderful going on, just a good hair day I guess. On the subject of hair, Alex got to giggling and said I'd wasted the dough on the new glasses, I should have gotten yellow contacts instead. He says my hair looks exactly like Madame Hooch's in the Harry Potter movies. This is not quite true, hers is grey and mine is dark blonde with wheaty-white streaks. But he is correct in that we both have short, sticky-out pointy hair. Even Mike (who has made a vow of silence when it comes to saying anything about my hair or clothing choices) has said a couple times that it's damn odd that I wake up with smooth tidy hair and then deliberately give myself bed-head. I nod and tell him it's not just ordinary bed-head, it's FASHIONABLE bed-head, and that makes all the difference. It takes a lot of work to make my hair this unkempt looking. Oy! Speaking of labor intensive hair-dos, I saw a kid at the mall the other day with a rainbow colored Kingfisher. Hadn't seen one of those in 20 years. A Kingfisher is a punk 'do. It's sort of a Mohawk, but instead of just a fuzzy strip down the middle, the center hair is grown out long and worn in tall conical points. The kid I saw had an excellent Kingfisher. The spikes must have been 9 inches tall and each was a different color. It was nifty. In fact, this kid was old school punk all the way. Plaid pants with multiple zippers and black leather trim, knee high combat boots, artfully torn Cure t-shirt, several safety pins and dangly earrings hanging off his head. Made me nostalgic, but a little sad. Why on Earth was this kid just copying a fashion that's been and gone for 2 decades? Isn't that rather counter to the whole concept of punk? I get your need to live out loud, young fella, so why settle for being an echo? Go be a rebel in your own way, kid. It'll do you good. And of course there were the usual horrified comments from the oldsters. Much tsk-ing and muttering about disgrace and thuggery. C'mon! Get a grip. He'll grow out of it. We all did. How many 40 year olds do you see running around with leopard spotted baldies or acid green crewcuts? Madame Hooch hair aside, to look at me now you'd never know I used to look like an extra from "Tank Girl". Okay, I'm not your basic PTA Mom, but I don't go off to the Shoprite in a bodystocking made from couple of patches of neoprene and fishnet either. My young friend with the Kingfisher will someday be just an average joe with a comb-over and a pot belly, so why shouldn't he have some fun now? More retro. Alex has abandoned his beard in favor of a set of muttonchops that would make David Crosby weep from jealousy. Not the most flattering facial ornament, but better than that patchy scruffy beard. It least the sideburns look deliberately cultivated. That horrible beard of his just made his face look moldy. And since he has no mustache to speak of, my kid had a real Amish thing going, and the Amish aren't known for their fashion forward trendiness, you know? As unfashionable as my kid is, he has attracted the notice and admiration of the Gay Posse at Podunkville High School. He's skeeved and flattered at the same time. Alex grinned a little over the irony that the only person who asked him to the Prom was another guy. "He knows I'm straight, Mom. He's just got kind of a crush is all." I hugged my boy and told him I was proud he is such a good person that everyone he knows feels okay and safe enough with him to be themselves. It's a rare thing in this harsh world. There were certainly no openly out people when I was in high school. They'd have been pounded into pulp. Even Johnny L. who was so nellie he made ME look butch took a girl to the Prom. In fact he went all four years. He used to ask the homeliest girl in the current senior class and would spend a couple weeks giving his date a make-over. Sort of a "Carrie" deal, only no pig's blood and mayhem. It worked. John got to play Henry Higgins. The girl got to go to the Prom and reaped the benefit of Johnny's considerable make-up and hairstyle knowledge. And she got a handsome escort who was a terrific dancer and didn't expect her to put out. Gosh, this is just wandering all over the place, isn't it? I've only had 6 cigarettes today and the lack of nicotine is making me spacey. Told you it was gonna get weird around here as I wean myself from the black lungers. No coherency in sight either, so I might as well sign off. Bought a copy of "Treasure Planet" today and I think I'll go watch it. Good night, from a vague, but happy, ~LA
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