Last night was Kiki’s dance recital, a three-hour show where her two-minute dance was two hours and twenty minutes in. She decided to take tap dancing in January, and from her second lesson till last night she screamed, cried, and pouted before each class. The timing was not ideal, it was Fridays at 4, and after a long week, she wanted to binge Bob’s Burgers, play with her makeup, and make snacks in the kitchen.
Two hours into the recital Geoffrey told me he was hungry. I forgot to feed the kids dinner because I ate two sandwiches and a small cake at lunch and the thought of food wouldn’t enter my brain for at least twelve more hours. I didn’t plan to eat so much, but Kiki said she was full after two bites of her sandwich, so I had to eat her leftovers. When it is 100 degrees and you just ate two sandwiches and cake, all you can do is sleep like a boa constrictor digesting a cow. The perfect place for a nap is a three-hour dance performance in a dark air-conditioned theater.
I brought a book too and went between dozing, reading, and endearing smiles at groups of five-year-olds spinning around to their interpretation of a dance routine. The pageantry is like Toddlers and Tiaras, all these kids wearing clown makeup and up-dos.
It’s cute when little kids get glamour shot ready, but it is bizarre when older women dress like children, and it’s so easy to do with the cute accessories at Claire’s. An adult woman wearing pigtails is usually a sign she is allergic to cellphone towers or oblivious to the emotional abuse of cats. She carries an NPR tote bag as a purse and always has an anecdote to share about the lack of elasticity in socks.
I’m not thinking about infantilizing stylish pigtails like Chrissy from Three’s Company, I’m thinking more of shooting-out-of-the-side-of-the-head pigtails, like Boo from Monsters Inc. This look on a woman tells you she will either drive you crazy or be so unintentionally charming, you’ll be mesmerized by her weirdness.
On my sober app, there is a community message board. A few people post often, and they graciously offer trigger warnings before going into lengthy posts wondering if they were molested. I never comment, only read. Someone gave the strangest introduction, claiming to be the oldest soul in existence, descendant from aliens, but also having had a past life as an alien. I imagined her unashamedly typing up this overly confident pile of garbage with two pigtails bopping in rhythm to the keystrokes.
There are women at yoga who wear their hair in pigtails. It’s obvious when the hairstyle is done to minimize soaking straightened hair, there’s a functionality to the style, and usually, the pigtails are at the base of the head below the ears. But there will be a woman, with those pigtails shooting out the side of her head, right above her ears. Her demeanor is as happy-go-lucky as her hair indicates. When I get a good look at her, I know she used to love doing LSD.
I hate showering at the yoga studio, but sometimes it has to be done. There is only one shower, and a line can build up. One of these LSD-loving, pigtail, hippie women was in line behind me. These women tend to make me nervous because I’m afraid they're going to say some psychic shit to me that will stress me out. She decided to give herself a whores bath with the sink, and said, “We used to all just get in the shower together.”
I gave her a “what are you gonna do” shrug, and looked at the ground.
After the kids and I came home from the performance I made them dinner. Geoffrey was exhausted and went to bed, but Kiki and I stayed up chatting. I told her I saw someone from her school in the bathroom at the recital. She asked, “What did they look like?”
I told her, “They had long brown hair.”
Before I could add more, she said, “It doesn’t sound familiar.”
The most common of hairstyles, yet the least memorable.
Then she talked about the recital and to my surprise added, “I think I’ll do jazz in the fall.”
And I said, “I’ll try and get you in a Monday class."
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