There is the hat from Hilton Head. We all bought one impromptu right before kayaking on the sound. It has a cloth band around it and a tie at the neck. It is my favorite one.
There is the hat with beads woven into the base that I bought because it was pretty.
There is the denim hat I bought when I decided to get divorced in 1993. I still have that one.
I rarely wear hats. I’m not really a “hat” person. But I am only 42. I have 40 years to go, maybe. Once upon a time, I was a kid who loved to swim. How many times did my nose get burnt to a crisp, and peel? I lived for going to the lake, or the beach, or the pool. How many times did I drive the farmall tractor around the hayfield in cut-offs and throw bales in sleeveless shirts, scratching up my arms? How many times did people think my brown hair was really blonde during the summer? When sunscreen came out, I bought the tanning oil that made you tan darker, not the protective stuff. Tanning lotion had bad chemicals in it – and what were the chances of me getting cancer? That happened to old people!
Yesterday I was waiting for my stitches to be removed. The man who came out before I went in had a bandaid over the bridge of his nose. He was “elderly.” He looked in the mirror and said, “I want to see how handsome I look.” I replied, “At least it is on the bridge of your nose and not the tip.”
He squinted – presbyopia – to see my nose a little better, his neck pushing his head forward. I’ve gotten used to those looks. Then he smiled. That always happens. Then there was the suppressed laugh – the ever-so-slight chest heave that people get when they are trying hard to be polite. But it was okay because he had a bandaid on his nose, and I had 3 stitches in the tip of mine. I chuckled, and he let the suppressed snigger out.
After he walked out, I looked around the office. There were expensive furniture and mirrors; a nice hat rack; expensive magazines. Her plastic surgery business was lucrative south of Pittsburgh in the global warming era. Her office had a west coast air about it, somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Maybe it was the wholistic health atmosphere, and her caring attitude.
Sun hats denote a change in my way of life. Will I regret my foolhardy youth? It was fun. If I could go back, I would’ve worn sunscreen.
