Back Stabber: Mom Hair
A black velvet, floor-length suit-dress enters the room. Tan pantyhose peeking out of dyeable shoes can be seen down below. The smell of Cinnabar fills the air. This may sound like a bad mother-of-the-bride getup until the woman turns around. Tufts of teased, badly highlighted and overly hair sprayed locks are held in place with a mammoth bow. The situation has now become your worst nightmare. You ferociously pinch yourself, but you aren’t waking up, and the poltergeist isn’t leaving the room. You realize you have just been attacked by Mom Hair.
Unless you are above 14th Street more often than the occasional shopping trip and bite to eat, you probably haven’t seen this plague hit your neighborhood. But I must inform the sheltered that here in the Midwest, this is a daily occurrence. Sure, that by spending most of my time in class or throwing beers off the balcony at the downtown bar, I’m not exposed to this as much as some. But a recent trip to a strip mall in Cleveland tested my patience… and my gag reflex. I remember my mother having similar hair bows and feathered style IN THE EIGHTIES. This hair sprayed rat’s nest of a fashion needs to be taken down and fast. Please, if you see any of these in your neighborhood, send me the photos. Mom Hair intervention teams will be standing by to raid the accessory drawers of those with this awful plague.
