My mom called me before;
Our conversation went nothing like this:
“I was thinking it might be nice if I bought you a ski helmet as part of your Christmas gift.”
“Oh… yeah… well… that might be nice, I guess, thanks.”
“Yeah, I mean, if that’s what you want, if you’d wear it.”
“Right, thanks, I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Instead, it went like this:
“[weird distracted silence] Oh hey, I was just calling you before as an excuse so I wouldn’t have to go into a store with your father.”
“So does that mean you’re busy?”
“I’m going to buy you a ski helmet as yo- part of your Christmas present.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to just buy it; you can pick it out. But YOU ARE WEARING A HELMET TO SKI IN.”
“Look, I’m not completely opposed to the idea, but why do you have to say it like that, as if I have no say in the matter? I’m 24 years old, I mean, come on.”
“Well I do NOT want to get stuck with someone who-
(here, I began preparing to hang up the phone)
falls and hits her head and ends up STUPID.”
So, ski helmets. As I said, I’m not completely opposed to the idea of protecting my noggin while barreling down an icy mountain. I’m not. It’s just that… how am I supposed to wear a cool hat with a pom pom if I’m wearing a helmet?
My parents have been trying to get us to wear helmets since we were snowy, little whippersnappers… it has never stuck. We had really nice, if extremely fugly, helmets when we were maybe 6 or 8 years old. Never wore ’em. Then, in a blatantly desperate attempt at tomfoolery, Kel and Dave bought us hockey helmets, I kid you not, because they thought we might find them “cooler.” Never wore those either. As if it’s even a good idea to wear a hockey helmet while skiing. I’m pretty sure you lose some peripheral vision in those clunky things.
If I were to wear a helmet, it would probably be one like this.
This one I actually do like. I kind of want it.