You're Not a Girl
When I was young, my mother Antonia used to
braid my hair every day before school. Two long straight braids every single
day.
My friends would tease me that I
looked like Laura Ingalls. At the time, the television series Little House on
the Prairie - which was loosely based on the books - was a big hit in the nine to 11 year old white female demographic. The teasing from my friends about my "look" was
relentless. So for a while, I just went with it, and pretended to be Laura. My
dad was Charles, and I called him Pa. My younger sister Jessica was Nelly, the
mean friend. And my younger brother Christopher, was Nelly's brother Willie.
A
few times, when I was out on the town shopping at Capwells or dining
at Emil Villas with my mom and siblings, other kids would stop me and ask me if I really
was that girl who played Laura Ingalls on TV and I'd say of course and just
walk on by like I was a star. I could hear them whispering and wondering out
loud all the reasons why Laura Ingalls might be sitting at Emil Villas eating a
french dip and mashed potatoes in Walnut Creek, California.
My mom's hairdresser was having a special, and cutting all the preteen girls hair with Dorothy Hamill cuts. It was all the rage. At first, I wasn't interested. But as soon as she showed me the glossy hard cover hairstyles book, with the edge softened photos of all the model girls sporting "the Hamill", I knew it was right for me as well. Realistically, I think my mom was just done with the braiding of my hair every day. But whatever, I loved the Dorothy Hamill finished product. It was a perfectly coifed oval bowl cut for which you had to first blow dry all the hair as straight as possible and then use a curling iron to curl the entire mushroom under, all they way around the entire head.
Every
day I'd wake up and spend an hour doing the curling iron routine. To reduce the waiting time to the bathroom for my siblings, my dad hammered a full length mirror onto the wall of my bedroom and told me to go to town. I stuck a chair on front of the mirror, turned on the radio, and spent every morning curling my Dorothy Hamill. Afterwards, I would put
on my roller skates, and roll around the front of my house in
character - as Dorothy Hamill. After all, I wasn't spending an hour
curling my hair every day for nothing. On the days I had early swim practice, I'd get up early and do the curling before practice. And then, again in the late morning after swim practice, I'd be back at it.
That same summer, I went south down
to Long Beach for a few weeks to spend some time with my grandparents, Helen
and Rosario. To pass some of the slow summer days, I'd roller skate along the beach sidewalk in "character" waiting for someone to notice me and make me a star. After a
few hours of rolling around each morning, I'd roll down to the doctor's office where my
Nana worked part time as a receptionist, and help her out for a few hours. I
had pretty good organizational skills, so she would put me to work checking
in patients and scheduling appointments. She could also get her filing done and take more smoke breaks
while I answered the phone and wrote things down for her. This also gave me a
chance to practice my famous radio voices while answering the office calls.
One day I finished up my work early, and
I was standing at the copy machine making copies of my professional signature, while waiting for Nana to finish up - when a friend of hers, an older gentleman, came in for an
appointment. Nana checked him in and introduced him to me. This is my grand
daughter Lauren, she said. She's helping me here for a few weeks.
He stared quietly at my face for a few minutes and then slowly looked me up
and down. He wrinkled his nose and squinted a little. Are
you sure that isn't your grandson he said. Nana turned to look at him and shook her head slowly from
side to side and smiled. No, no, she's my grand daughter, my oldest grand daughter. But he shook his head no and said, no I think it is a he.
Like he knew better.
No, Nana said. That's my grand daughter. She's
here visiting for a few weeks. I think I would know if she was a he. And she smiled
at him. But he continued to shake his head back and forth as if he was thinking, no, I don't believe you, you're playing a trick on me.
By this time, the whole waiting room
was looking up, at me, to see why my Nana and this old man were in
disagreement of whether or not I was a girl or a boy. And I was looking right back at them, not knowing what to do.
I'm Dorothy Hamil, I finally spit out. You better get your glasses fixed Mr. and I walked over to the old man and shoved one of my professional signature sheets into his hand, and then proceeded back to the copy machine to act busy and finish up making the rest of the copies of my signature.
Well shit, I thought after the old man had finally gone, I guess it's time for a new haircut.
any pictures Dorothy?
ReplyDeleteSo glad you're writing again! Welcome back!!
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