What is BBH?
BOOBS, BOOTS & HAIR
This might seem like an odd choice for a blog title, but for me, it is a funny (and powerful) reminder to always be strong; to look for the positive, and reasons to laugh and smile!
Where did it come from?
For some reason, throughout my life, people have always felt a “need/desire/right” to make comments about me. I like to think they are compliments (but probably not…at least not always.) When I met my boyfriend he began to notice that there were a few “topics” that seemed to come up a bit more frequently than others.
Although it would SEEM to make sense to explain in order, that’s not the way I am going to go about this, because I can “explain” the second two much more than the first.
Because of the MS, my lack of feeling from my waist down, and many issues with balance, my footwear became a HUGE issue. Gone are all the wonderful (fashionable) boots with heels, wedges or ANYTHING that raised my heel even a centimeter. I had to give up all my flip-flops…to some that might not be a big deal, but for me, I LIVED in flip-flops, and like Carrie Bradshaw cherished her Manolo Blahniks, my impressive stock-pile spanned from years of finding “just the right pair” each summer. YES, I revered my collection of cheap summer sandals (FANCY, I KNOW!) And I was faced with the dilemma, what shoes do I wear now? What would allow me to avoid the dreaded “frumpy-mommy” stage? I certainly did NOT want to resort to hitting the town in Easy Spirit sneakers (or some other shoe found on nurses in hospital wards, all across the nation – NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT!:) but just not on MY feet.
And then I found them…the PERFECT pair of boots! They were black, leather, BORN boots with white stitching that gave them a bit more appeal than just plain black. The soles were flat, the instep perfectly coddled my aching feet, and they looked GREAT with almost EVERY outfit I wore. About 2 months after being diagnosed, I began wearing them, EVERY day, EVERYWHERE! Apparently my choice was a good one, because people commented, for the next 4 years….A LOT. I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason I was NOT able to replace them when at last, they could be worn no more, was because I had told EVERYONE that asked, what brand they were and where to get them. They had bought them ALL, and there are NONE left for me! SOOO… BOOTS!
Throughout the forty-two years of my life, I have had MANY different hairstyles (think my favorite would have to be my Flock of Seagulls look) but the one I have right now has been with me for quite some time. It fits my lifestyle, wash and wear…and it looks better the longer I don’t shower (no REALLY it does!) But again, people notice, and comment, or at least ask “where do you get your hair done?” I joke that my hairdresser should comp me my cuts as I have brought MANY new customers her way since I met her back in 1992. I don’t think that it is anything too unique or interesting, but it seems to draw attention.
and on to the last….
Even though it is the first “B” (Boobs, Boots and Hair) I left it for last, because I can’t really explain this one. I suppose if it had come from my brief foray into the world of on-line dating (after the divorce) and that the comments/compliments had come from the men I went on dates with, that would be one thing. But NO, these are often made by women, and not necessarily drunk women (unless ladies are frequenting the grocery store in middle of the day, smashed.) There have been the times when sharing the bathroom with fellow gamblers at a casino, I have had the boobs (and how great and perky they look in a particular shirt or dress) discussed by complete strangers, but I have also had the topic brought up in odd places, like said grocery store, or once even the gas station. It makes NO sense to me. For as outspoken and “inappropriate” as I may be, I can NOT fathom commenting on another woman’s breasts. Heck, I didn’t even mutter a single thing when one of my closest friends called me over to her house for a “viewing” of her NEW (and supposedly improved) boobies. So it really doesn’t make sense, but it happens, and not just once, but over and over again.
And so Shawn started to tease me about these encounters, making comments on how GREAT I looked in the boots, or on a REALLY bad leg day (what I call days when the pain is unbearable) he would point out “well at least your hair looks fabulous or when I had a very drunk man poor a beer all over the front of my shirt, “boy, those ladies are right, your boobs DO look fantastic!” That is how it began, we now constantly refer to my general appearance (my look or style maybe) as B.B.H..