My father has taken to calling me Cruella Deville.
This is, perhaps, the only nickname I’ve ever gotten that could stick. For awhile, several of my friends took to calling me Loretta after the Nick Cave song “The Curse of Millhaven,” and if you know the song this could clue you in to my bad temper.
But my nieces and nephews seem to really like this nickname and I have caught them calling me Cruella behind my back this week. It might have something to do with me not being cool with watching them bowl over my mother’s rules. Grandma may be outnumbered, but Aunt Lauren is mean. And boy, can I be mean. Somewhere along the way I have developed a threatening voice and an evil eye that I can put on with a moment’s notice. I reserve this demeanor for all interactions with other people’s small children.
But the worst part about my father’s new nickname for me is that it is visually apt. When I went from this blond to this brown, I hesitated for a bit wondering if my hair was truly naturally blond.
But judging from the thin skunk stripe running down my head, very blond roots on dark hair, I think I can draw a decent conclusion. It looks like I’ll be going to the salon soon.