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Glue is not food • •

November 23rd, 2011 Zarmina

Although the show first aired in 1998, That 70's Show took place in the 70's, which explains Ashton Kutcher's (Kelso's) outdated,but amazing hair. Photo courtesy of Last week, as I made my way to the bathroom during French (my designated potty time) I spotted a boy with 70’s style feathered hair. The male interpretation of feathered hair is generally chin length with a Stepford wife flip-out for many layers. Kelso (Ashton Kutcher) rocked feathered hair in the early years of That 70’s Show while Farah Fawcett became famous with her woman version in the original Charlie’s Angels. But this boy I passed by lives in 2011 (unless I missed a time warp) and his hair not only had bangs, but it parted perfectly in the middle. In an arguably conformist suburb, hairstyles, accessories, and clothing blur together as one. And after seeing one too many “Millard West Approved” sweatpants, I vowed the next time I saw the boy with the feathered hair, I’d ask him about his inspiration, and commend him on his individuality or homage to the past, or whatever he was after. I just had to tell him his hair was magical. Although when I saw him, my brain replaced all rational thought with the unignorable impulse to touch the feathered hair. His bewildered reaction was completely warranted, considering a 5’1” girl yelled “STOP!” at him and shoved her little hand in his face. The boy with the feathered hair swerved his head to the left, away from my outreaching hand and scurried on leaving me to wallow about how little hair I touched.

A few friends, laughing at my “childish” and “socially unacceptable” manners, witnessed the harrowing ordeal. Then one whispered—as soft as one can in a hallway filled with high school students—“I’m actually kind of embarrassed.” Her comment made me think. In elementary school, we were taught discipline. Ask to go to the bathroom. Do the activity assigned. Glue is not food.

Zarmina Niazie These lessons are essential to our growth because in the ‘real world’ everything and everyone runs on discipline. It’s how we make it to work on time, and keep up with our hygiene. But along the way, through elementary and middle school, discipline has taken over our lives. We’ve set a standard social norm in which certain things are not acceptable. We have learned to be not only embarrassed about our “weird” actions, but of ourselves. Personally, I’ve tumbled, tripped, and skipped everywhere, confused the Revolutionary and Civil Wars for far longer than a girl with an A in American History should, and wore Smurf-blue tights—and not ironically either. Each time I’ve done something generally considered “embarrassing,” I’ve stripped away parts of my shame. I do allow myself to be embarrassed—mortified even—but only for as long as it takes to blink. Any longer would be a waste of time. Even when I attract stares for singing to myself in the hallways, or talking to my locker (he’s so uncooperative sometimes) I refuse to stop. Discontinuing my “socially unacceptable” ways because I’m a little embarrassed would enslave me. As teenagers, we’ve learned to force rules upon ourselves and others about what’s admissible and what’s not, but it’s okay if someone doesn’t shower every single day or they’re not crazy about Abercrombie and Fitch. Although I most likely should not have attacked the boy with the feathered hair in the manner that I did, I’m not ashamed. In that moment, it was exactly what I wanted to do. And that hair felt awesome.

Glue is not Food  


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