Part of being an individual is coping with some of the things genetics just passes down to your by sheer chance from the fact that you are half of each your mother and father’s DNA.
Now sometimes this works out great, like a certain little Shiloh Pitt-Jolie will not be an ugly duckling where-as Billy Joel and Christy Brinkley’s daughter is a tad bit more challenged in the looks department. However, she has made herself quite appealing despite the conglomeration of her parents co-mingled attributes. There-fore there are no guarantees that when two people who love eachother produce progeny that said child will inherent any or all desirable socially attractive traits of either parent. That being said, I would like a word with my parents over two entirely uncontrollable aspects of my appearance; my hair and my fingernails. Both items I mention are curly. While one might love curly hair if they possess straight, let me assure you that those of us with curly would probably kill if it would magically transform our outrageously uncontrollable locks to something that can actually be brushed on a daily basis without creating the hideousnous that is frzz.
My hair, like many people’s, refuses to obey anything I do to it. This is not to say that it cannot, on occasion, look fabulous, but that is entirely up to how it has chosen to behave or not on any given day. I used to believe that most things in my life could be affected by my choices, but my hair is, ironically enough, completely on it’s own. It has decided to be abundant in number, yet fine, more like cotton candy in feel then the beautiful thick silk on Jedi’s head. Betrayed is how I felt when at the age of 9, G-d felt it was okay to just add curly, crazy hair on top of the crisis of early puberty. So, not only was I entering the mysterious world of maxi pads and bras, one that I not so thrilled about, the other I was a bit excited to wear, but I was also dealing with this Q-tip-like mop.
Jedi and I recently took a trip to Niagara Falls. We were already in Buffalo for my cousin’s wedding, so we figured we would skip over to see the natural wonder and beauty of Niagara…on the Canadian side, of course. I say, “of course” because the American side is desolate and not so tourist friendly. I’m unsure if that’s because you cannot get a good glimpse of the Falls from that side, or if it has to do with economic infastructure in Northern New York. Either way, it is a shame. Back to my hair…do you know what high humidity does to curly, fine, fly-away hair? Well, all I can say is it is NOT a good combination. I looked like I just finished sticking my finger in a light socket for the majority of the day. This was not at all good considering we dined in a rather nice restaurant that evening. It was with great relief that I glimpsed a woman at a nearby table who looked equally bedraggled.
My nails are a total failure in structure. You see, my nails curl over the ends of my fingers, but of course, just to be different, it is only the first and middle fingers that do this. My remaining 6 fingers have perfectly beautiful long, straight, and dare-I-say, even white nails that can only be grown out with their curly counterparts all askew right nextdoor. Why, you ask, do I not have acrilic nails installed on the offending digits? To put it succinctly, I am lazy. It is rare that I enjoy being away from home or work for body-beauty related maintainence (massages are NOT included in this category as I consider them luxury and well worth the travel). I deplore having to get my eyebrows waxed (despite loving the results) and am known to go weeks without taming the furry caterpillers. I don’t mind the pain, it’s the scheduling and going I mind. Once I am there or at a nail salon, I don’t mind the services, it’s the upkeep that is a killer.
Perhaps it is not a matter of finding fault with my inherited attributes, perhaps it is just finding more time in my day to actually tame them. And the want to do-so…but for now kvetching seems entirely satisfying.
No comments:
Post a Comment