We all have our vices, those little quirks that have irritated us about ourselves for most of our lives. I bite my nails, tried to stop about a thousand times, couldn’t, moved on. I also twirl my hair, a lot.
I twirl when I’m talking,
I twirl when I’m walking,
I twirl when I’m thinking,
But not when I’m drinking.
I twirl when I drive,
When I’m watching TV,
I twirl most of the time,
It just makes me, me.
Ahhh… a generation raised on Dr. Seuss.
So we have these annoying habits and those closest to us are so used to them that the problems almost disappear. But add a new person into the group and the cute quirky habits immediately become fodder for the masses.
“Gee you really twirl that hair a lot.”
“Yeah, I have since childhood. My parents use to tell me I was so fidgety that it was the only thing that calmed me down.” I don’t tell them that I sucked my thumb until I was like eleven. (Hey maybe the twirling replaced the thumb sucking. A shrink would have a field day with that.)
“Come on try not doing it for like a half hour.”
Really, a challenge to stop the hair twirling? What am I twelve?
So, we’re sitting there playing some stupid domino game someone brought and the fingers of my left hand are taping on the table trying to concentrate on not twirling. I tap the tiles, I tap the glass of club soda and finally I put my hands together in front of me as if in prayer. I glance down at my hands and notice a little piece of nail calling out. I start to put the finger up towards my mouth when the newest member of the group and what I can only assume is some kind of control freak, lifts an eyebrow in my direction. Wait, I can’t twirl or bite?
I’ve rapidly come to the conclusion that this person may not fit in with the group.
“I don’t understand. Does my twirling somehow cause you harm? Do you have some underlying habits of your own that you’ve recently broken and are somewhat afraid I will cross you over into the bad place?”
“It’s just that you’re twirling, the motion, well it makes me lose my concentration.”
“So if I twirl you will play badly?” I smile, I like to win.
“Yes, I can’t concentrate.” The woman stated rather emphatically.
That’s right, I started twirling. Because after all, I am over fifty, I can do what I want.