catastrophize
[kuh-tas-truh-fahyz]
- to view or talk about (an event or situation) as worse than it actually is, or as if it were a catastrophe: Stop catastrophizing and get on with your life! She tends to catastrophize her symptoms.
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Dave lay
on the couch with his laptop poised on his lap.
His eyes glazed over as he clicked to another page. One of his sister’s, Kim, lay on the floor in
a similar pose, but on her stomach with her computer in front of her.
A flurry
of footsteps echoed through the hall and their other sister, Molly, burst into
the living room. The teenager’s
breathing was heavy, and her eyes were wide.
Her older siblings looked up from their respective devices to see what
was the matter.
She wore
a dress that could best be described as slightly inappropriate, and her hair was
allowed to hang loose, as apposed to the neat braid she normally wore.
“I’ve
got a problem.” She said through heavy breaths.
“What’s
up?” Dave asked.
“It’s
horrible. Terrible. A disaster.” Molly continued.
Kim
stood and examined the youngest of the three.
She gasped and held her hands over her mouth.
“Oh you
poor thing. Are…are you alright?” She
said as she moved around the couch to comfort Molly.
“I…I
think so. I just…I just…”
“What? What’s wrong?” Dave asked. He had no idea what was going on, but his
brotherly instincts were telling him to either comfort her or make fun of
her. He just needed to know why first.
“Are you
blind?” Molly asked. “It’s obvious.”
Dave
just shrugged. She did not look hurt,
and he had not heard anything break, nor had any phones rung. It had to be something obvious, since Kim had
spotted it right away.
“Give me
a hint?”
“Oh don’t
bother explaining it to him.” Kim said. “He’s
a guy. He wouldn’t understand.” She shot
the middle child a piercing glair as she spoke, as if his gender was some kind
of affront to nature. “Now come here,
let’s see what we can do.”
“Okay,
now I’ve got to know. What’s wrong?”
Dave tried.
Molly glowered
at him and pointed to her hair. It was
not her usual style, but there was nothing wrong with it that he could see.
“Your
hair?”
“Yes my
hair. My hair that’s completely messed
up. My hair that looks terrible.”
“What?”
“Like I
said, he’s a guy.” Kim said. “Don’t
expect him to get it.”
Dave
hung his head and drew in a long, slow breath.
After 19 years of living with two sisters, he knew he should have been
used to such things. But somehow, they
always managed to find new ways to be frustrating.
“If it
helps, I think your hair looks fine.” He tried.
This
just earned him cold stares from both his older and younger sisters.
“This is
why you don’t have a girlfriend.” Kim said.
“You just don’t get girls.”
That one
hurt. His lack of a significant other
had plagued him all throughout high school and into college. He had simple not met the right girl yet, but
his siblings refused to let him live it down.
“Okay,
what’s wrong with your hair?”
“Everything! Just look at it.” Molly practically shrieked.
Dave
stood and moved to get a better look.
When he got closer, he did see a few strands that did not align
perfectly with the others, and a few even fell in front of her face. None of which should result in such a strong
reaction from the two girls.
“Okay,
so you’ve got a few loose strands of hair.
Is it really that bad?”
“Yes.”
Kim said.
“It’s
terrible!” Molly wailed.
Dave
groaned inwardly. Externally, he just
looked at the two of them and the dead serious expressions both wore.
“Okay, I’ll
bite. Why is it so bad?”
“Because
I’ve got a date tonight, and everything has to be perfect.” Molly said.
“First,
does Dad know you have a date? And
second, why is it so important?”
“Yes, he
does. I made sure to tell him and Mom. And it has to be perfect because it does.”
Dave
blinked. Kim nodded her agreement,
leaving Dave baffled.
“Molly,
may I offer some advice, as a guy?”
Molly motioned for him to continue.
“Don’t worry so much about your hair.
I don’t know who you’re going out with, but I guarantee he won’t be
thinking about a few loose strands of hair.
Heck, in what you’re wearing, I’m pretty sure he won’t even be looking
at your hair. By the way, does Dad know
you’re wearing that?”
“No, he
doesn’t, and you’d better not tell him.” Molly warned. “And what makes you so sure?”
“My
years of experience being male has left me with unique insight into the male
psyche. And nowhere does it include ignoring,
shunning, or insulting a girl in a much too tight dress because her hair isn’t 100%
perfect. Trust me.”
Molly
looked to Kim for confirmation. The eldest
sibling thought about it and shrugged.
“Maybe
he has a point?” She admitted. “But
still, just in case he’s wrong, let’s go fix you up a bit, okay?”
Molly
nodded and the two left to fix Molly’s hair.
Dave sighed and slumped back onto the couch, still confused by what had
just happened. It left him with a single
thought. A thought he had not truly felt
since he was six:
“Girls
are weird.”
************************************
Truth be told, I have no idea if girls actually pay this much attention to hair. All I have to work with is TV and movies, which are admittedly not the most reliable methods of learning such behaviors. I mean, I have a sister, but she never really fussed over her hair to this extent, and if she did, I never saw signs of it.
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