Hello friends. How was everyone’s week? Mine was a mixed bag. On the upside: a sweet friend came over for dinner on Tuesday – we had champagne and pizza. Classay. I ate a lot of cookies and avocados. Not together! Though, I wouldn’t put it past me. I also caught up on Parenthood (more like ParentGOOD, am I right?), aannnddd I made a major adult move and signed up for new health insurance. Like a BOSS.
On the bottomside: Daylight Savings Time. THE worst! It’s dark at like 4:12 PM every night, you guys. WOOF. I can already barely muster the energy to stay awake for all of Scandal…how will we survive four more months of this? It’s like Iceland up in here. I can’t deal.
I am going to have to keep things brief this week (“HALLELUJAH, FINALLY” says everyone) – I’m taking a half day today, so scurrying around to get things done before I go. Brian & I are headed to PA to check out a few possible venues for our impending wedding (for which I AM excited!) and catch up on HGTV. And hang out with my mom. But mostly the TV thing. House Hunters International: I’m coming for you!
So, rather than our usual longwinded listicle, a short, MORTIFYING story that is sure to rank high in my Top 10 Most Awkward of 2013 List:
HERE I AM INSERTING AN UNNECESSARY HEADLINE SO YOU KNOW THE STORY HAS BEGUN
Before we begin, allow me to preface this with the fact that I am a tactile person. Recently an online quiz told me my love language is “touch.” I just like to hug and pat and pet and snuggle and I’m certain I am a boundary crosser but I do it lovingly, you know? Say you know!
One tactile activity I particularly enjoy is playing with people’s hair – long or short, curly or straight – I just like to touch it. I am a creepo weird freak, I am well aware.
So! Earlier this week an old colleague of mine was back in the office and came up for a quick visit with another gal who works in our building. This former colleague happens to be of Dominican heritage and has fantastic, gorgeous curly hair, currently styled in a short, bouncy do. I have totally touched this hair before, in a NORMAL consensual way. We are friends! Friends touch each other’s heads? Right?
So we’re talking, talking, talking and some remark was made about her hair looking particularly cute (which it WAS!)…and just like, instinctively, I reached out my hand to sort of pat her head (whyyy?) but mid-reach I had a sudden internal panic: “Elizabeth! You can’t just touch another person’s hair without asking! Especially not [whispers] ethnic hair. As a white woman! Could you be any more condescending?”
Instead of touching her hair, which would have been bad enough, but salvageable, I just stood there, motionless, with one hand hovered in the air several inches in front of her head like I was about to anoint her with holy water or something. I stood like that for what was certainly no less than seventeen hours before slowwwwwly pulling my hand back and hoping no one noticed.
Oh. They noticed. I tried to rectify the situation by rambling about how curly hair for about 78 minutes (curly haired women ARE significantly cooler than their straight-haired counterparts: FACT) before my two conversation partners straight up stprinted far, far away from me.
Smoooooooth move, dude.
Friend, if you’re reading this, I am genuinely sorry! I wasn’t trying to be borderline racist or physically inappropriate…that’s just my natural state of being. I hope you will forget this ever happened. Please?
For Christmas I’d like Santa to bring me lessons in how to be normal. Those exist somewhere, right?
Annnd I feel like that’s MORE than enough awkward for one week. Let’s just shut it down while we’re
ahead far, far behind.
Happy Weekend, pals! Get out there and enjoy that daylight while you still can!
xoxo Liz Ho