Husky Do

I don't know how we got on the topic but yesterday, my sister Angela and I were discussing childhood memories and me in my ever-so-observant way (some would call it slightly demented) turned it into a searing, painful journey into my younger days.

Somehow, my statement of me taking some running pants (yeah...imagine that...ME, actually running in running pants!!) back to Target because they didn't fit quite right turned into my recollections of my K-3rd days where I was subjected to my first encounter(s) with name brands.

And to this day, this "name brand" has been seared into my psyche so much so that once I say it, all you guys out there will recoil in either pain or hysteria because you know from whence I cometh.

Toughskins. Sears Toughskins.

If ever the devil were to create his own brand of denim jeans, it would have to be Toughskins. Those things were so stiff when you bought them, Boeing could've used them for some prototype versions of the 747. I think it wasn't until the 40th time I tried to wear them they actually began to even show the slightest inclination of "give". Oh, and let's not forget when Toughskins thought it'd be a great fashion idea to take various shades and colors of denim and turn a pair of jeans into a walking patchwork quilt. can you blame the ladies for running away from me?

Couple those jeans with my ideal t-shirt...the one that used to have a big cartoon pic of Fonzie saying "AAAAAAYYYYY!" and I was ready to knock 'em dead.

Not only were these things so uncomfortable, they were designed to fit boys of my age and my...ahem...build.

I was what you used to call (as did all the people around me at that age) "husky". I believe this term was a polite way for clothing marketeers to call boys "fat", "chubby" and "porky" without really doing so in a direct manner. In fact, it worked so well that I thought "husky" was kind of a cool term to describe me as more of a "man brute in training".

Needless to say, in my later years, I began to realize that the hot girls didn't really go for the "husky" boys. They usually liked the star quarterbacks, the slender guys who were not only cute but quick on their feet. The ones who had perfect feathered hair parted down the middle.

Me? My body was sad enough in it's portly state but I thought it'd be a great idea to try and enhance things with my hair.

First, it was the ever popular and still widely used "bowl cut". Now I never had a bowl put over my head but looking back at older pics, I can see how one would think I did.

Then, I tried the aforementioned hairstyle of parting it down the middle and then flipping the sides back in a feathered layout.

Think Shaun Cassidy without all the foof.

Unfortunately, my hair has no life and lays as it will...which is usually straight around my gourd. Then, being influenced by not only 80's hairstyles but Van Halen's bass player, I came up with the bright idea of putting a body wave in my hair.

Hey...if it works for Van Halen (and that guy is kind of short & stocky like me...dare I say, he was "husky"?) why can't this hairstyle work on me too?

I knew when I saw the pupils in my mom's eyes dialate as I walked out of the barbershop something was up...and it wasn't just my hair. My fears were only affirmed when we walked in the house and my dad called me "Cindy".

Like I said, somehow my sis and I got on this topic and you can see how quickly it dissolved into a free-for-all nosedive that resembled that of a wounded goose falling limply to the ground. Sure, we laughed and laughed about it on the phone but deep down, tucked way down in the darkest recesses of my soul...

the Fonz is shedding a tear.

Aaaaayyyyy.