The Hair Monster
...My parents didn't notice that I cut my own hair. WOE AT THE HILARITY
Yeah, hair? Curlycurlycurly, despite our extreme paleness people think Merisa's grandparents were black. Because of the hair. It hasn't been cut in YEARS, cause Merisa wanted to have it long. Had it long, trimmed it all by herself. NO ONE NOTICED cause it just curled up and looked the same. *dies laughing*
Well, being mistaken for black (WTF?) constantly is interesting. BUT, it's only happened to me before. UNTIL, my brother David registered for school last fall and SOMEHOW the secretary checked 'african-american' on the slip. So he's been black all year, and his AIMS tests say he's black, and we got invitations to black support groups and things ALL YEAR.
And then at a Cracker Barrel in August this old WWII vet was staring at me. I was there with my Dad and Grandma whom we had just picked up from the airport, looking for any distraction whatsoever. From them, cause it's 'Save Merisa From Her Own Bad Choices!' or something day. ANYWAY, see this old dude staring at me. The. Whole. Time. Before he leaves (he was alone) he comes over to the table and asks me, "Are you Irish, by any chance?"
I think I reminded him of someone. I've seen him around, told him my first name, Dad liked him. Weird. We have trickles of German, Scottish, French, British, Irish, and African-American, apparently.
Now, this all leads back to David. Fifth grade social studies quarterly project, make a Heritage Doll.
So, we're gonna make a black plushie wearing a kilt with curly red hair and blue eyes carrying a wine bottle and a book with a white flag behind one ear. Thoughts?
Yeah, hair? Curlycurlycurly, despite our extreme paleness people think Merisa's grandparents were black. Because of the hair. It hasn't been cut in YEARS, cause Merisa wanted to have it long. Had it long, trimmed it all by herself. NO ONE NOTICED cause it just curled up and looked the same. *dies laughing*
Well, being mistaken for black (WTF?) constantly is interesting. BUT, it's only happened to me before. UNTIL, my brother David registered for school last fall and SOMEHOW the secretary checked 'african-american' on the slip. So he's been black all year, and his AIMS tests say he's black, and we got invitations to black support groups and things ALL YEAR.
And then at a Cracker Barrel in August this old WWII vet was staring at me. I was there with my Dad and Grandma whom we had just picked up from the airport, looking for any distraction whatsoever. From them, cause it's 'Save Merisa From Her Own Bad Choices!' or something day. ANYWAY, see this old dude staring at me. The. Whole. Time. Before he leaves (he was alone) he comes over to the table and asks me, "Are you Irish, by any chance?"
I think I reminded him of someone. I've seen him around, told him my first name, Dad liked him. Weird. We have trickles of German, Scottish, French, British, Irish, and African-American, apparently.
Now, this all leads back to David. Fifth grade social studies quarterly project, make a Heritage Doll.
So, we're gonna make a black plushie wearing a kilt with curly red hair and blue eyes carrying a wine bottle and a book with a white flag behind one ear. Thoughts?