Below is a snippet of my hope-to-be-published memoir, Autohairography. If you know of a publisher that’s nice and likes quirky girls, please email me!

[image credit: kerry coulson]

chapter two.
1987-1990. peachy keen.
I don’t really even know if that’s how the saying goes. Peachy keen? Or is it peachy king? All I remember is hearing Rizzo from Grease say ‘Peachy [insert correct phrasing here], jelly bean,” and me thinking she was pretty much the funniest thing in the entire world and imitating her every move, except for that whole getting pregnant thing and experiencing the ‘false alarm’ moment at my senior high carnival. That part, I didn’t imitate.

I think the night before my fourth birthday was the evening my hair grew. I always thought some sort of hair fairy came into the night and left a surprise not under my pillow, but on top of it. Because I don’t quite remember my hair growth any differently except that what was gone was now there.

But instead of growing into silky curls and flowing locks, my hair grew stick straight and in the shape of an army buzz. It was very, very short, and very, very stick-like. I closely resembled a Chia Pet, but the blonde version. In fact, my older sister’s best friend Todd Robinson came over one day and asked my Mom if he could ‘pet me.’ As in, an animal. An animal with army buzz hair.

I bit him.

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autohairography: chapter one.

autohairography: chapter

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