Hats!
I have a big head. No, really. I mean the circumference of my head is unusually large, twenty-five inches--I just measured twice--which by anyone's standards indicates that my noggin is gigantic.
I also have all this Cocker-Spaniel hair ("yes, the curl is natural, do you think I'd pay money to DO THIS TO MY HEAD?"), so all things considered, if I were a snowman, I'd fall over, head first, into a snowbank.
The huge-headedness of mine has only bothered me on the rare occasion, like when I was visiting Tahiti as a sixteen-year old and our new found Tahitian friends gifted me with a lovely straw hat to commemorate my visit. It perched awkwardly on my head until we boarded the plane and it's never touched my hair again. I hang it in my closet, a reminder of balmy breezes and Tahitian brown eyes, but I can't wear it. That hat is made for a girl with a normal head size.
Sure, perhaps I need an extra-large head to encase my super-sized brain, but that didn't offer any comfort the time I went snowmobiling in northern Michigan and the helmet crushed my eyeballs into the front of the helmet and smashed my nostrils into my upper lip, causing my breath to steam up the helmet windshield (what is that thing called?). Inside that helmet I felt like one of my kids as a toddler who snuggled his head into a flowerpot. Nice and cozy. Also, I had to undo my French-braid to lessen the bulk and when we arrived at a restaurant for a little break (thank God, my head could expand to its normal shape again), my hair looked like the "before" picture in a shampoo commercial. Oh, so pretty!
Even if I could shove my head into a hat, I wouldn't because I have eight tons of the aforementioned Cocker Spaniel hair firmly affixed to my skull. (I would look like Bozo the clown.
My hair makes me hot, causes me to swoon on a slightly warm day and is the reason that I bought a hundred hair bands last time which came on a handy key-chain-like ring. My supply on the ring has dwindled down to three, so now I dig my hands deep into whatever pockets I might be wearing in hopes that I'll fish out a hair band. Right now, as a matter of fact, I am about to push aside the 307 broken pencils in my drawer to see if a hair band is handy. (It was. Oh, sweet relief!)
One time, I remember Oprah mentioning that she has a big head, though do you think I can find any proof right now through the magic of Google? (No.) And Rosie says her head is big, too, though she is fuzzy on the details. Perhaps I'm destined for television talk-show fame, if my head is any indication. Then again, well, maybe not. I suspect there are additional qualifications, like the ability to make small talk with random strangers and the willingness to wear super-high pointy high-heels and smile at a camera.
If I ever lose my hair, I'm doomed to a life of shiny baldness because even Bartholomew Cubbins's five hundred hats doesn't include one in size Too-Too-Too-How-Can-She-Even-Balance-Herself-With-That-Bowling-Ball-Head-Large.
I also have all this Cocker-Spaniel hair ("yes, the curl is natural, do you think I'd pay money to DO THIS TO MY HEAD?"), so all things considered, if I were a snowman, I'd fall over, head first, into a snowbank.
The huge-headedness of mine has only bothered me on the rare occasion, like when I was visiting Tahiti as a sixteen-year old and our new found Tahitian friends gifted me with a lovely straw hat to commemorate my visit. It perched awkwardly on my head until we boarded the plane and it's never touched my hair again. I hang it in my closet, a reminder of balmy breezes and Tahitian brown eyes, but I can't wear it. That hat is made for a girl with a normal head size.
Sure, perhaps I need an extra-large head to encase my super-sized brain, but that didn't offer any comfort the time I went snowmobiling in northern Michigan and the helmet crushed my eyeballs into the front of the helmet and smashed my nostrils into my upper lip, causing my breath to steam up the helmet windshield (what is that thing called?). Inside that helmet I felt like one of my kids as a toddler who snuggled his head into a flowerpot. Nice and cozy. Also, I had to undo my French-braid to lessen the bulk and when we arrived at a restaurant for a little break (thank God, my head could expand to its normal shape again), my hair looked like the "before" picture in a shampoo commercial. Oh, so pretty!
Even if I could shove my head into a hat, I wouldn't because I have eight tons of the aforementioned Cocker Spaniel hair firmly affixed to my skull. (I would look like Bozo the clown. My hair makes me hot, causes me to swoon on a slightly warm day and is the reason that I bought a hundred hair bands last time which came on a handy key-chain-like ring. My supply on the ring has dwindled down to three, so now I dig my hands deep into whatever pockets I might be wearing in hopes that I'll fish out a hair band. Right now, as a matter of fact, I am about to push aside the 307 broken pencils in my drawer to see if a hair band is handy. (It was. Oh, sweet relief!)
One time, I remember Oprah mentioning that she has a big head, though do you think I can find any proof right now through the magic of Google? (No.) And Rosie says her head is big, too, though she is fuzzy on the details. Perhaps I'm destined for television talk-show fame, if my head is any indication. Then again, well, maybe not. I suspect there are additional qualifications, like the ability to make small talk with random strangers and the willingness to wear super-high pointy high-heels and smile at a camera.
If I ever lose my hair, I'm doomed to a life of shiny baldness because even Bartholomew Cubbins's five hundred hats doesn't include one in size Too-Too-Too-How-Can-She-Even-Balance-Herself-With-That-Bowling-Ball-Head-Large.
posted by Melodee at Thursday, May 04, 2006
12 Comments:
I, too, have an unusually large head. I had no idea it was heading me to talk show fame! Two other nerdy guys and I had the largest size graduation cap they could find in high school graduation -- humiliation I have tried to forget. . .
omg! I don't remember Bozo being so scary looking. Reminds me of Pennywise. Yikes! You are far from looking like Bozo.
Thanks for the laughs this morning. I can't wait for the talk show ;)
Count me as another with a head of generous proportion....and tons of naturally curly hair on top of it. I so sympathize with the Bozo effect. Humidity is NOT my friend.
(I thought I was the only one that remembered Bartholomew Cubbins. I love that story!)
I've always considered my head average. I've never measured it, so I don't really KNOW. I've always wondered though, why I seem to list forward so often when I walk...and why I've broken so many of my hats. hmmm.
Fun post.
I am one who does NOT look good in hats, so I only wear the occasional baseball hat when I am outside or having a bad hair day.
Your head looks perfectly average to me :)
~K!
O.K...looks like we have the start of the "big head--frizzy hair support club!"
Let me know what time we will meet...and I'll be there!
:) Diane
Now, see I have the other problem. I can not seem to find hats that fit my itty bitty head. I have grand kids with heads bigger then mine. Where are all the hat makers anymore?
Big head- Oh you poor thing! I never knew this was a problem for anyone!
On the hair- have you ever tried going short?
I'm glad you can laugh about all this though!
I'm in the honkin' noggin club, too. My boy's pediatrician measured my head after discovering that the kid's head was in the 100th percentile for size. Mine's in the 98th among women. I'm not sure what the actual size is, though. I'll have to go measure. . .
I would give you a tip of the hat from my 24" head, but alas I have the same problem. (And yes, it is to hold all of our brain cells. So there.)
My sons were born with blue eyes (like me), dimples (like me) and the hugest ass heads you can imagine. I had to have C-sections--no joke!I gave birth to bobble-head kids--thankfully like puppies, they grew into them :)
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