Hats

H is for hat.

I've worn many over the years, both literal and figurative. Oddly blessed that my head and face like hats. Some people, I know, just don't tolerate head covering with dignity. My mother put me in the frilliest bonnets she could find, in pink and white, for a simple reason. This last baby, her only and much wanted girl, was one bald babe. And she got mightily tired of everyone commenting on what a beautiful BOY she had. Not that the bonnets helped, mind. People are stupid, especially the ones who make those sorts of observations.

Never have been able to walk past a hat display without trying a few on. I had a very stylish black cowboy hat once, left it for a moment in the student union, and it was gone. The army gave me a few hats to wear, which were actually pretty good at keeping the sun out of my eyes. Which is why I don't wear sunglasses, only brimmed hats to keep the glare away. Learned in the army that a baseball hat works just as well. Slightly disappointed that nurses no longer wore crisp starched hats by the time I became one. Impractical and with the symbolism of servitude, but also snappy looking. So, I got into the OR, where we all wear hats.

My ears ache in the wind, so I make sure to always have a good knitted cap to cover them in the winter. Have worn straw and paper hats through the hot sunny summers here, saving my face and neck from burns.