The Flip

This morning as Erika was sleeping in – big time. It is Spring Break but by 11:00 a.m. I tried to wake her up. No luck. At noon I tried again. She had no interest in getting up so I tried something different: a little Dad lecture. Surely that would send her scampering. Recently she has become much more conscious of things like appearance and hair and the like. This leads to no where good. Anyway, knowing that any words from me would be like holding a paper towel over a Hoover Dam spillway, I thought I’d try anyway. I told her that when she was born she had a certain beauty about her. I know I am biased, but all the nurses kept telling us too. And this was without make-up, or hair! (Her eyes were still closed but I know she was listening because she smiled.) I continued by telling her that she has only gotten prettier, that she was fortunate to possess a natural beauty. Sure, a little make-up is OK, and a hairdo, but she shouldn’t let a “bad hair” day ruin her day. She could afford it. When I started sharing my story, she sat up in bed. When I was 13, my hair was a little longer than it is now, and fuller, but other than that, it is pretty much the same. Parted on the left. I told her that at that age I began carrying a comb in my back pocket and I thought about my hair a lot. I told her about a little “flip” technique I had for the front. But one fateful day, despite my best efforts, my hair looked terrible. By chance I mentioned this to Juli Baker and she flatly told me that to her my hair looked exactly the same as it did every other day. What?! It was terrible! She looked at me carefully and affirmed her opinion. This was eye-opening to me, and I realized that no one noticed (much less cared) about my hair. We are our own worst critics. Anyway, Erika was incredulous. Did Dad really care about his hair? Oh yes, I used to be quite a cad I told her. I would even check the mirror from different angles to see which side of my head looked the best. I guess this was proof-positive for her as she bolted out of bed and out of the room. She told me she had to find Natalie and tell her that Dad used to care about his hair. Sheesh. If she could have only seen the “flip.” At least she was up now!