I hate my head.
My cranium. It holds my face, my hair and--to the best of my knowledge--my brain. I hate it. It's a little too big for my stick-like figure and is accentuated by my measured-in-altitude-not-inches-forehead. In addition, not only does it look slightly awkward upon close inspection, it also prevents me from wearing any kind of hat whatsoever.
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When I was younger, I was riding my bike with my brother and a friend of his. As we were riding down the sidewalk, there was work being done on a second story window, and there was a ladder going from the curb to the upstairs window. I was very young at the time, so this was my first real encounter with teenagers; there were some boys standing under the ladder, making it impossible for us to ride under the ladder.
We slowly made our way under the ladder, trying our best not to disturb the ladder or the boys, and as we were going under the boys made some comments.
This was first attempt to use it, so I did so with gusto; I mumbled "thanks assholes" and they began to chase me.
My brother and his friend, being older, rode away much faster, while I was pushed into the street. A car swerved to the left, away from me but very close to crushing my skull, and the boys stole my favorite hat. A blue Chicago Cubs hat.
I cried and cried, we went to the police station, they couldn't do anything. My hat was gone.
Ever since then, I've attempted to wear hats: baseball hats, knit hats, visors, anything, and nothing! My head begins to itch uncontrolably and I am forced to take the hat off.
I wear hats but only knit hats and only for the brief periods of time while going outside in the freezing cold, when my head and ears are in imminent danger of frostbite.
No hats for me...
....
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I think I remember that hat?
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