Child’s Pose


Admit it.

When we were young, we had ideas about the future:

“I’ll never be old like those dorks”

“I can’t wait to live in a mansion”

“I’m planning to harness ambition and power to make an impact in the world”

“I can’t wait to drink legally”
And now, here I am, in my own future, and I have realized

old is incredibly awesome, but we dorks like to hide that from the whippersnappers, lest they try to draft in our wake

mansions just mean more dusting–and, OY, the property taxes!

I have ZERO ambition or power, what with being a professional nimrod and all, but I’m still leaving a dent in a few things here and there (not the least of which is my Toyota Camry’s back fender)

drinking legally is wayyyyy more awesome than I even knew when I was hitting up old dorks outside the liquor store to buy me beer
Here’s something else I never envisioned in my youth–a time when random hair clipping, yoga, and little kid hairdos were totally, as we un-PC slanged back in the ’80s, “gay”:

that this thought would ever cross my mind, “Tarnation and fluff!  Now that I’ve hacked at the layers on the top of my head with the office scissors, my hair’s too short to fit into the pigtails I like to wear to yoga class.  All this excess time spent clipping these various and dramatically-short tendrils to my noggin is going to make me miss the first vinyasa!”

…all of which is to say, “Youth of 2010:  you have no damn idea what’s coming.  Practice humility now; you’re going to need it later.  Especially after you’ve been wielding the office scissors in front of the bathroom mirror.”



By Jocelyn

There's this game put out by the American Girl company called "300 Wishes"--I really like playing it because then I get to marvel, "Wow, it's like I'm a real live American girl who has 300 wishes, and that doesn't suck, especially compared to being a dead one with none."


  1. Ha! Ha ha ha ha! If young people could actually hear that advice, don't you think we would have listened when we were young?

  2. Oh. My. God. How do you do this?
    Not the hair. The humour. Never mind; you were born that way.

    I last cried over a haircut when a French guy gave me a two-for-one cut. Either that or he was (excuse me for un-PCness) dual-natured. Or maybe he was incompetent. But the cut on the left side of my head was not the same as the one on the right.

    I would never, ever, ever take a pair of scissors to my own head. Russian roulette is a safer option.

  3. How can we tell you how gorgeous it looks with no picture? With your hair color, you can stab at it with a weed whacker and it'll still be fab!

  4. I've never been blessed with great hair, but the ego can handle it, hence the self-forgiving photo shots that may occasionally feature on my blog.Although I go to the hairdresser (purely for the blissful head massages 'cause to massage my own head looks like I have a migraine coming on)I am more than familiar with those office scissors.Mine are usually from the sewing basket however.When acquaintances ask "Whose her hairdresser?"it's not from envy,believe me.

  5. Someday I think I will see you on late night TV, or HBO Comedy.

    The humble scenario delivered to me by time's march is a double edged sword. My once per month hair buzz sadly takes just seven minutes including reading an article while waiting. But, my head dries instantaneously when I step out of the shower and I haven't used a comb in five years.

  6. Good advice is wasted on the young, the same way alcohol is. Too much of a good thing, anyone?

  7. I have said it before–only one woman cuts my hair and when she dies/moves/quits I am screwed.
    Driving. Driving is a huge adult perk.

  8. Where's the picture? Surely, can't be that bad.

    Advice – never seems to end up where it should.

  9. You went at your hair with scissors yourself? Brave (or very foolish) woman you. I have needed a haircut for 6 months, but am too scared of the hairdresser. I've walked out of hair salons in tears too many times.
    I like your advice.

  10. I wonder if the asymmetrical bob was a clever get out line from some apprentice hairdresser with a hangover.

    I cut my brother's hair for him once… he took ages to forgive me!

  11. I am with Voyager. I've had so many awful haircuts that my children openly sneer when I announce that I've been to the hair chair again, which I consider on the same level as the ducking stool for witches in Plymouth. They don't even ask how I like it anymore. The latest looks like a bad Farrah Fawcett wig. There will be no pictures. Pass the shears, please.

  12. I've had those hair feelings myself, with the same results. I never achieved my goals. My daughter, naive as she is, still believes she can. (No money, but that mansion is still in her dreams.)
    Lindsey Petersen

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