Yes, my hair is curly. Yes, my hair is crazy. Yes, I have a Jew-fro.
And I couldn’t be prouder.
The bigger the better.
I may not have been blessed with height, but my hair certainly makes up for that – with at least an extra three or four vertical inches (and many more in diameter).
When I was younger, I made mistakes. I brushed the curl – when it was dry. That’s like waking a bear from a lengthy hibernation. Bad things happen. And kids made fun of me.
It took awhile, but I learned my lesson(s). Eventually, I learned how not to wake the beast. Because when you let the beast sleep, it can be just the cutest thing.
So, the other day, you can imagine my surprise when I’m walking through the mall, and out strolls someone from the toy store singing to me, “Ch-ch-ch-Chia!”
(For those who forget, a Chia Pet is a traditional Mexican, animal-shaped, clay figure covered with chia seeds, which sprout quickly and furiously to resemble animal fur.)
Well, this behaviour is almost understandable coming from a ch-ch-ch-child.
But this wasn’t a kid. It was a “man.” A man who clearly impressed his accompanying lady-friend, who cackled like a little school girl at the (dim)wit.
To be honest, I shouldn’t fault the grown woman for laughing.
I too would find that funny, if I had the mentality of a 12-year-old.
At the age of 12, we find deprecating others to be quite humourous. As we mature, self-deprecation becomes the sense of humour of choice.
(Or we simply will make fun of others, albeit, behind their backs.)
It has been many years since someone has made fun of my appearance – for something other than my height.
Unfortunately, you never outgrow the height jokes. That is both figuratively and physically impossible. But, at least you get used to those.
(HINT: Unless you have a keen new observation to mock a short person’s height, don’t bother. It’s not funny, and makes you look inadequate. Too bad this remark will go over too many people’s heads though.)
But seriously, if you are not a hockey player, or some sort of athlete who frequents a locker room or playing field where chirping is part of the sport, this making-fun of business stops after high school.
The mall is neither a locker room nor a playing field, and dude who chirped me, was definitely no athlete.
Now, I can be a tough chick – my brother even nicknamed me “tough guy” – but this ch-ch-ch-remark actually hurt.
Even though I know my hair is cool… Even though strangers often tell me my hair is “amazing”… Even though I didn’t even know this guy… I knew “this guy” back in junior high.
His insult brought me back to a time when people made fun of me, and I haven’t experienced people – other than me – making fun of me (to my face) since then. And I refuse to be dragged down to that level again.
So to the grown man who thinks my hair looks like a Chia Pet: I know you are, but what am I?
And to anyone trying to work on a height joke:
I’m not short; I’m concentrated.