Mother's Day and My Pink Hat

              Source: bonanza.com via Sperk* on Pinterest

My maternal grandmother wore hats.  I have an image of her stored in my memory--a fitted dress, fabric printed with voluptuous yellow flowers and on top of her head sits a hat--possibly from my mother’s wedding album, I am not sure.  I am not sure if she even wore hats in my presence when I was a child.  Even so, when I think “grandmother,” I think, “she wore hats.”

I wear hats.  One hat in particular, a pink ball cap.

I purchased it two years ago when the girls began playing softball.  I needed to keep the sun off my forehead to minimize the production of giraffe spots that were beginning to appear on my 40-something-year-old forehead.  

I was surprised at the comfort I felt wearing it.  It looked relatively cute, kept sun out of my eyes, and allowed me to forego hair styling all summer long.  Primarily though, it felt like a shield of some sort, a personal one.  I liked it.

Two years later, I am still wearing that pink ball cap.  Softball is merely in practice with no need for sitting through games under the sun, but I have been sporting my cap at all times with the exception of when I sleep.

  

Why?

In an attempt to save money, dodge sitting in a hair stylist’s chair for two hours, and avoid the intimacy that comes with getting one’s hair done, I colored my hair myself.  Not only did I color it, I took a stab at highlights, too.  In short, I look like a skunk.  No exaggeration.

This morning I woke thinking of my grandmother.

It’s Mother’s Day.

She would have worn a hat today. 

I’ll be wearing my pink ball cap until 1:00 p.m. 

It is then I will remove it, expose my skunkness for the world to see and sit in a hair stylist’s chair for a color correction.

This will be my Mother’s Day gift.  M and the girls are insisting upon it and have agreed to join me there for the afternoon.  I am too afraid and embarrassed to go alone.

I know this hair correction business would make my grandmother happy.  She was always well coiffed, never using hats to hide her hair.  If she saw me hiding beneath my pink ball cap, she would call me out on my lack of respect for life itself.  Even though she was far from a perfect mother, she was the epitome of a picture-perfect lady.

It will be a happy Mother’s Day.  Maybe even picture-perfect.

Here’s to moms and grandmothers.  And here's to hats.

In celebration of Mother's Day, browse my Pinterest pin board "Stories about Moms"

                                                  

Source: mymothersstory.org via Sperk* on Pinterest