My earliest memory of wearing a headband: I'm about five or so, maybe younger. The headband was one of those plastic, inch-wide creations in a marble-y brown color, better to match my hair color. Anyway, I swear to the kids that I can dig a deeper hole in the sand faster, so remove the headband and use it as a shovel. It worked well. Mom got mad at me for having a lot of dirt in my hair.
Today, headbands are to me what Brian would call a "Big Mac moment:" something that sounds really good once a year, and once you've had one, you remember why you've gone a whole year without one.
I have about four different headbands in my "hair things" drawer. This morning, I tried on the skinny black one...then the elastic rainbow colors...and finally settled on the brown leather. Walking out of the house, I thought, "This is comfortable. I should wear them more often."
Then it happened: 1. I couldn't put on my sunglasses because the headband is in the way. That's just annoying. 2. By the time I return from lunch, the thing is digging into the side of my head like no one's business. A headache is developing, and it can be traced back to the twin points behind my ears where this contraption has been pressing all day.
I've taken the devil device off now. It's sitting and mocking me from the corner of my desk. Time to put it away until next year.
No comments:
Post a Comment