A girl, a side ponytail and a neon scrunchie

I happened upon KA’s Facebook status today and she was feeling the urge to rock a side ponytail. I maybe encouraged her. And by ‘maybe’ I mean, I told her to not forget to secure it with a neon scrunchie. Which was when I remembered this gem of a story.

*I realize that some of you have already heard this one, but it’s pretty hilarious (IMHO) and deserves to be told again. Especially because KA is considering a side ponytail.*

My grandma happens to be the youngest of five daughters. She actually was a twin, but my great-aunt Jean beat her into the world by what I assume would have been minutes. The oldest sister of the quintet was my great Aunt June. I didn’t really know Aunt June all that well, mostly because she lived in Nebraska and also because she scared the holy bejesus out of me. I remember her as very stern, in a loving sort of way, but when you’re six, it’s the stern-ness you remember. She was also extremely religious. However, I do have one memory of her that stands out and it happens to involve a Star Stage Microphone so it’s definitely worth telling.

I don’t know if anyone remembers what exactly a Star Stage Microphone was, but it was the vehicle which pretty much allowed me to be Debbie Gibson at the tender age of six. It was a microphone on a stand that swiveled around and had a pedal on either side so I could make my voice echo (left pedal) or carry the note that I was belting out (right pedal), should I deem it necessary during my performance.

At one particular family reunion (the only one we’ve ever had of substantial size and caliber–we rented out a whole resort!), I was about six, and I insisted on bringing my Star Stage Microphone so I could compete in the talent competition. When you have a family the size of a small infantry, you can do these kinds of things. So the night of the talent competition rolled around and I had one of the women in my family put my hair in a side ponytail that was secured with a neon scrunchie (because really, that was the only way to wear your hair) and I marched to the front of the room (there wasn’t really a stage) with my cassette tape, my boombox and my Star Stage Microphone in hand, very self-impressed with my “professional setup”.

Wanting to surprise everyone, I hadn’t told my mom what it was that I wanted to sing for the talent show.

I can assure you that she, and everyone else, including my dear, so-very-religious Aunt June, were aghast that my song of choice was late 80s Madonna, “Like a Virgin”.

Oh yes. Yes I did. I belted out every word to that tune, not having the slightest clue what the lyrics meant or the fact that a 6-year-old singing something about being touched for the very first time might be inappropriate. Just maybe.

I think I probably gave Auntie June a heart attack. My mother probably wasn’t far behind her. But man did I rock that night.

So KA, you rock that side ponytail, but I will support you in fighting the urge to sing that particular Madonna song in public while doing so.

One comment on “A girl, a side ponytail and a neon scrunchie

  1. Is there a reason I’m just now hearing about this? This story should have been told about three weeks after we met. And you’d start it with “Oh, you’ll enjoy this…”

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