Apparently, I need a haircut. At least, this is what my dear friend Alisa implied as she publicly mocked my hair while we were getting into an elevator at church. Yep...didn't even wait until there was nobody around. Just began to mock and berate my hair, thus causing me to be extremely self-conscious for the rest of the night. I asked a few other people how my hair looked and they all told me that it looked fine, but they could have just been giving me the business. I'm even worried about it now, as I'm sitting here in my apartment all by myself... worried that perhaps somebody is looking in my window at me right now wondering, "What's up with that guy's hair?"

Ok, so it wasn't as bad as all that and I wasn't really upset by it. But still...for most of my life my hair has been a dry unmanageable curly bird's nest, and there's really nothing I can do about it. It only grows one way...frizzy and out!

When I was in eighth grade, there was this girl in my science class who used to call me Fuzzy Wuzzy. And she did it maliciously, too. Everytime I would do something stupid or clumsy (which at that age I did quite often...in fact, I still do) she would say something along the lines of "Fucking Fuzzy Wuzzy." Now, this girl was kind of...large. Normally, I don't make a point of mocking people for their weight because that's just mean and I'm not exactly skinny myself. But this girl had it coming. For almost an entire semester, she had ridiculed me day in and day out by publicly calling me Fuzzy Wuzzy, to the delight of several of the other students in the class. Every day she would find some way to slip in the phrase "Fucking Fuzzy Wuzzy."

Well, one day I did something socially awkward, as usual. I don't even remember what it was anymore. Sure enough she chimed in with her daily insult. Being the shy, quiet type I sort of mumbled to myself something that I THOUGHT only I would be able to hear, "Fucking Fatty Watty." At this point, the class exploded into laughter, all of them suddenly laughing at her as opposed to laughing at me. I glanced up at the front of the room and saw that even the teacher was doing his best not to laugh. Word quickly spread around campus about the incident and I think I was briefly considered cool for at least the rest of that day. After that, she no longer mocked me.

Looking back, I'd even venture to say that that single event was when I learned that I could use humor as somewhat of a defense mechanism to keep people at bay. Yep, that was probably the moment at which my cynical sense of humor (which some of you despise, and some of you love) was born.

So, as you can see, Alisa. I have deep emotional issues when it comes to people making fun of my hair.