Ok, I am new to this whole concept of blogging. I was introduced to this cultural phenomena by my little sister when she posted something about the ill effects barbequed almonds have on my gastric pipes. It would appear that nothing is sacred anymore.
I was curious to read Lorien's comments about her childhood and how awful she thought she looked with years of bad haircuts combined with having to wear an orthodontic birdcage over her head. Lorien, if you happen to read this, I understand where you are coming from, but you don't know what ugly is! Compared to me, you looked like a goddess. I wore the same birdcage you did. I don't think my family was even aware I was "wired" to that degree because I would come home from school and lock myself in my bedroom before I would don the apparatus. I would remain there all night sometimes. I would quickly remove the appliance if I had to venture outside the sanctuary that was my bedroom. This was due primarily to the fear of being the brunt of a new set of ugly jokes. They always hurt more when they come from your siblings.
I was late getting braces so I had to endure all the comments that are associated with a bad smile until I was a sophomore in high school. Ever since fourth grade when my teeth decided to go on a fieldtrip, my just older brother had affectionately referred to me as "the beaver". How bad were they, you ask? Let me state this as eloquently as I can. Are you familiar with a power rake? I could have easlily given it a run for the money. I used to put my head face down on the table and rest myself upon my protruding teeth in hopes that they would take the hint and retract themselves back behind the safety of my lips.
And you speak of bad haircuts? I had my share. My mother used to cut our hair when we were children and she was pretty good at it. It was the between-cuts period that were horrific. You know the stage when your bangs get long enough to get in your eyes and you start thinking hey, how hard could it be to just grab the scissors and fix the problem. And that is just what I used to do. I would snip the longest hairs first and then check the results. Of course it always looked like someone had notched my bangs and not just trimmed them. No problem. Just even it out, right? by the time I was finished "fixing" what I had done, I looked like a Billy Ray Cyrus twin. And as luck would have it, this would always occur right around school picture day. Arg! That's when I would sheepishly ask my mother if she could fix the disaster. As a result, I had some pretty short haircuts and they never did mask what I had done.
Luckily, life goes on and we grow up - at least to some extent. My teeth have long since been reunited with their fellow brethren and I leave the hair cutting to the professionals. I don't claim to be handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but I don't feel too ashamed to be found in public places anymore. Now, maybe if I could just lose about ten pounds...
