a view through annie's eyes

My hair smells like a Dole fruit bar. My daughter left her Herbal Essence shampoo and conditioner in my shower, and if you can believe it, I borrowed it this morning just for sentimental reasons. Not to smell like my daughter, but to remember.

Seventh grade English wasn’t that fun. My boyfriend, Russell Wilson (who got that title just by asking me to a church valentine banquet once) sat behind me. That was also the year that Celeste with the long blonde hair moved into the ‘hood. How did she know that Farrah hair would be so cool long before we’d even heard of her? Celeste evidently used Herbal Essence shampoo because all Russell could do that year was ask me what kind of shampoo I used and tell me how Celeste used Herbal Essence and her hair smelled really nice—all while sniffing my hair, but drooling over Celeste. I obviously hadn’t gotten the memo and was into daily scrubs of Head and Shoulders and gallons of Sea Breeze due to oily hair with bangs that split if they had to mop up the adolescent forehead.

I’m sorry. Do I sound bitter? Don’t hate me because my hair smells like a popsicle.