2/18/2015

Hands Off: My Daughter's Hair is Not an Exhibit

"What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Peezahhhh!" said Olivia excitedly.

Note: Try turning down an 18-month-old with a big smile and eyelashes to boot.

I dare you.

Hence the reason we eat pizza like four nights a week.

This night was different though.

Instead of popping a frozen one in the oven, we loaded up the girls and went to one of our favorite local pizza places.

We walked in and found a table in the back of the restaurant.

It was busy.

Apparently 5:15 is when all the cool people wanna eat a dinner buffet.

There was a large, excessively loud, group of people next to us talking about farming and horses and [for some reason unbeknownst to me] Preparation H.

Yeh.

I can't make this stuff up, you guys.

Totally appropriate dinner-talk, right?

Anyway, I digress...

Minutes after we sat down, I felt darts of eyes staring at our family.

People staring and commenting about us is nothing unusual necessarily.

But this was excessive.

And you know it's excessive when Chris leans over the table and mumbles nonchalantly, "Is everyone staring at us right now?"

When the large group [finally] started to wrangle up their rowdy kids and disperse, we felt a sense of relief the angels in the heavens started singing.

But then it happened.

The silent "Alleluia's"  running through our heads were suddenly interrupted when a woman walked over to our table and -- without permission or warning -- started running her [greasy-from-pizza] hands through my daughter's hair.
"Oh, wow! Her hair is so big!" she said as she continued running her hands through my daughter's hair.

I swallowed my shock, anger and hunk of pizza and asked her told her as politely as I could to get her hands out of my daughter's hair.

She made a comment about her "red bow," and as she walked away, Chris mumbled, "It's pink."

We continued on with our peezahhh night, but days later I'm still thinking about the whole incident.

The fact of the matter is this:

What happened with that woman at our table is not okay.

So, here's a letter to the stranger who ran her hands through my daughter's hair -- and all those tempted to do the same:

Please.

Don't.

Just don't.

I know my daughter's hair looks different than yours, and that you might have the best of intentions with coming up and groping it.

But don't.
We spend a lot of time conditioning, moisturizing and styling her gorgeous, curly locks during our special "hair nights" every week.

Of course compliments are welcome.

But my daughter's hair is not part of a museum exhibit.

Her hair is not on display meant to be gawked at or touched by strange hands.

She is not a pet.

She's my daughter and her hair is beautiful.

She knows this.

I know this.

And I'm glad you notice and might agree.

But seriously.

Unless we're friends and she's got a piece of waffle stuck in her her locks from breakfast, I expect you to be respectful of her boundaries and keep your hands to yourself.

Sincerely,

Momma Bear