I recall as a child sneaking the scissors out of the bathroom, locking the door to my room and chopping off my bangs until I had that middle age balding look at the young age of 12. I couldn't grow sideburns that young so I just left two strands of long hair in front of each ear. (Prepubescent side burns?) I then wrapped my sister's flowered winter scarf around my neck, put on a pair of my mothers giant 70s sunglasses and indulged in my new daily ritual of trying to wedge a gap between my two front teeth with a butter knife. All the while, CAPTAIN FANTASTIC spun endlessly, filling my room with un-earthly magic.
Now imagine my embarrassment when my "tough guy" Italian father walked in on me in full pop glam glory, lipsyncing with EJ: "It's party time for the guys in the tower of Babel!"
He freaked out! I remember trying to step around an ass beating amidst
flying scarves and the sounds of sunshades crunching under foot. My father
then proceeded to give me a full military crew cut - side burns and all!
I remember crying and watching myself in the mirror being transformed
back into the chubby little country boy my father could proudly call son.
But my father did not win! A week later I was back at the TG&Y pulling 99 cent stickers off Lawrence Welk LPs and putting them on Elton John albums, building my collection! And every time my father would force me to dress like a "regular boy" I would always find some way to add a little outrageousness to it!
