One of my goddaughters is a freshman in college. Her mom always teases me that she got my DNA. I tease back that I injected some while my friend was pregnant.
We share some scary traits.
She has my humor. She has my lack of patience with stupid people or stupid situations. But most of all, she has my hair. Like me, she has spent her lifetime trying to tame it. I don't have the heart to tell her it's not going to happen.
The running joke in my life is that my hair arrives on the scene about 5 minutes before I do. It's slightly true.
(Oh Emily, I'm sorry. I held you within seconds when you were brought into this world. I rubbed your little head. Did I do this to you?)
So, she called me the other day. The party she was attending had an 80s theme. I loved the 80s. Big hair was IN in a big way. I perfected the Farrah flip. I said, "Go with the big hair. Work it girl, Work it!"
She was skeptical but I think I convinced her. I asked for pictures.
Her parents were kind enough to take my first name and give it to her as her middle name. Her fate was sealed in that moment.
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2 comments:
My husband used to tell people that the reason he never became a bishop was because I didn't have big hair.
I forwarded this to our Ms Emily Sheri! She will love that you wrote this. My favorite memories of you trying to tame your hair are the nights with you rolling your hair with orange juice cans, the huge air bonnet dryer you took with you EVERYWHERE, and trying to iron your hair with a real iron! Emily doesn't realize how lucky she is with the products & tools they have today for you big hair people. I still would kill to have a little of that gorgeous body instead of my straight, flat, limp hair!
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