VS.-- The First Installment: Ugly vs. rude and insensitive

So, dear internets, which would you rather be seen as, ugly with no sense of put-togetherness, or rude and insensitive. Maybe this only happens to me but it seems all to often I find myself in a position having to choose the lesser of two evils. Ugly vs. rude, unobservant vs. incompetant. I'll explain. This happened a few weeks ago but the computer was on the fritz at the time so I am just blogging now. Cleveland was in the throws of trying to win a fourth game against the Red Sox (which we now know was to no avail) and Tribe fever was ripe here in our lovely land. It was Saturday morning and Chris was loading up the boys in the car for our traditional Saturday morning breakfast. I had scrambled out of bed, thrown on some clothes and was headed down the stairs to join him. Fortunately I passed a mirror on the way to the garage and realized my hair was in no condition to be seen outside the house. All the baby hairs that have grown in since Joseph's birth sent them running for the hills have reached their teen years. Adolensence has taken hold of them and they are rebelling against all conformity and reaching with all their might for a bit of individualism. This does not bode well for my hair as a whole. Individualism I'm sure has a positive side to it but not for hair. Hair, frankly, should be a communist society, each doing its small part for the greater good, each willing to bend here, accept a little product there, in an effort to produce a style greater than the sum of its parts. Unfortunately, capitalism is well and thriving upon my weary head. It's busier than the floor of the stock market up there with every folicle wavy itself crazy and clammering to be heard above the others. Can't you all just calm down?!

Well, I hurried right past the mirror to the basket full of ball caps with which to tame fuzzy brood but here I found a problem. The only ball cap I own (and proudly) is blue. With a great big Boston "B" emblazoned on the front. (My two boys are Boston babies after all.) I started to put it on and realized, "Ahhh, I'll draw more stares for my Red Sox hat than my crazy hair." What to do? I searched the basket a little deeper and came up with a Michigan hat and a Pittsburg hat. No better. And this is really just coincidence, we aren't huge sports fans in the first place. I stupidly wore the Michigan hat out in my back yard a couple weeks after we moved in and my neighbor tackfully let me know it wasn't quite appropriate if I wanted to make any friends here (Thanks Bob!). So what was I to do, wear the hat and have everyone at the breakfast place think I was a traitor to my city, ungrateful for all the fantastic people and culture here, and eventually pelted with eggs, run out and asked to never return? OR. Be looked at with pitty, as a mother who is too stressed out, has let herself go, has no fashion sense, and needs a hair intervention STAT. Rock and a hard place if there ever was one. I dug through the basket one more time in hopes of an answer. I didn't find one. In the end I settled on a hat Chris must have picked up from some car dealer somewhere. It had a mercedes logo on the front and frankly didn't do a very good job at capping the rebelious hair as well as sending out a hoity-toity vibe which was SO opposite from the rest of my look. I guess I lost on both fronts. Just my luck.

Oh well, at least the eggs were good.