The Beanie Extravaganza

Before I confuse you, dear readers, as is often the case when one comes across my mother and me in person, this is one of her daughters - Emma.

When I stepped off the plane from a two-year stint in Ecuador, the first thing I noticed was my mother's haircut. We had both traded our lanky locks for an identical stylish bob. A year later, we've managed to maintain the same hairdos, which has caused much confusion in public. With our ravishingly trendy spectacles, the resemblance is even more disconcerting:

Delivering Millstone Farm lettuce to the Village Market (kingdom of the "stop-and-chat")
- "Oh Fenella! What boat are you in for the Sunday regatta? Golly I just..."
- Emma turns around.
- Short gasp. "Oh my!"
I suppose we both trot around in gardening clothes sometimes.

Sipping a fine red at Barcelona with a spread of tapas.
- "Emma darling, I had no idea you were already back from..."
- Fenella turns around.
- Short gasp. "Oh my! Well I never..."
Yes, an affection for wine might also course through the Pearson-Bonvicini line.

So you can imagine how disappointed I was to find that I would be losing my third identity (mind you, I have a real twin, Dimity) to the fall-out of chemotherapy. Immediately I volunteered to shave my head. After all, I wasn't brave enough to do it after resigning to my mother's pleas to chop off my dreadlocks, so this was a chance for redemption!

Since I made my offer, I've questioned whether my mother's spirits would be lifted, entertained, or saddened by her daughter's shiny skull, which next to hers is the size of a mung bean (hers being a lima bean of course). So I've deferred and instead joined Francesca and Dimity's hair-cutting, beanie-fitting sisterhood.

Today, Francesca and Dimity wielded my mother's precious hairdressing scissors, which she's used on us for years. No one, except my mother, who won't trust any of her children to return the favor, has paid more than $100 total for hair styling in his or her life. This story is really my mother's, so I'll leave the rest to her with a wee hint: she looks fabulous!

What I'm really getting down to here is a most intriguing question: How can a mother with such glamor and style possibly fall to the bottom of the ranks when it comes to Cancer beanies? Honestly! Who picks a doo-rag with gaudy roses and thorns over the streaking flames! Um, streaking flames!! And classic red bandanas with a mock mullet or tail are completely out! (She's obviously not reading Vogue these days). I won't even get into this white spot-of-a-thing with a little red cuff that sits on top of her head and turns her ears forward so that she looks like a charming little elf.

All I can say is thank god she has good friends who crochet more appropriate colorful threads to compliment her lovely round noggin! The rest are being shipped back to oblivion tomorrow.