Closet? What closet?

‛Twas the New Year's Eve, 2005. Tiger's Eye and I did some shopping, making sure we had everything before the holiday store closing. Tiger's Eye always complains about me dragging him along, but we have a blast, shooting noodles into a moving cart and scoring, and whatnot. Generally speaking, especially in the evening on a holiday's eve, we can be just as loud and silly as we please, and we were doing just that. In a jovial mood, we started down the health and beauty aisle.

"Do we need toothpaste? Do we need toothbrushes? Do you need shampoo? Do you need deodorant?"

Responding to my queries all negatively, I stopped in front of the shampoo. You see, I did need shampoo.

This is my regular brand of shampoo:



I like it because it makes my natural curls sleek and shiny, not heavy. I really, really prefer this kind. Unfortunately, they had Vive for normal, Vive for oily, Vive for color and Vive conditioner, but none for curly hair.

"Rats."

"Why don't you just let your hair go straight sometimes?" Tiger's Eye asked.

I explained to him that, in 7th grade, there were three of us with the same name. Blondie, Curly and Straight--that's what they called us to differentiate. I, back then, was straight.

A weird thing happens to us Flying Tiger girls when we hit puberty. Our hair goes curly. Don't know why, but it just does.

"I like my hair curly," I ended.

"I think it would like nice without curl," Tiger's Eye said.

"Maybe, but it's a hassle." I bent over, looking for other curl-enhancing shampoo. "I don't have time for it. Besides, it's easy. I get out of the shower, brush it, put mousse in it and I'm done."

"Why don't you just wear it straight?" he persisted.

"Because I don't want to be straight anymore," I said, my stooped posture causing the words to come out a little louder than we already were.

Ahem.

I didn't realize what came out of my mouth, but the ladies at each end of the aisle left hurriedly. As I thought about it, a chuckle broke out of my throat, then a full-out guffaw. I leaned against the shelves and just laughed and laughed.

It might have gone totally over Tiger's Eye's head had I not found it so terribly funny. As it stood, though, he cocked his head, mentally replayed my last sentence and grinned. He laughed, prompting more laughter from me, prompting more laughter from him, and so on. I finally finished, wiped the tear from the corner of my eye and said, "Well. Ain't that something."

End of matter, right?

Wrong! Tiger's Eye followed me with the cart as I hit the pizza aisle. "Mom, why aren't you straight any more?"

I laughed, but ignored him otherwise.

"Ain't life great? Mom ain't straight," he chanted.

An aisle later, he declared, "Mom, I liked it better when you were straight."

And this continued through the rest of the store, including the checkout counter. And in the car. And in the house. And to his other siblings. And to his father.

I beat him to the punch New Year's Day, though. I found great delight in asking my relatives, "Do you want to hear how I came out of the closet last night at Shop ‛n Save?"

Heh heh. I loved the looks on their faces. I'm known for liking shock value when I speak.

So, anyway, I'm not straight anymore, hair-wise anyway.