When I was a kid, I loved the Guinness Book of World Records. I was tall for my age, so I thought I would grow up to be a giant (I failed). I was fascinated by Robert Wadlow, the world’s tallest man who grew to be 8 feet 11 inches tall. I used to wonder, “Where in the world could he buy clothes that fit?”
Little did I know that a similar question would one day apply to me. My conundrum became, “Where in the world can I buy a hat that fits?” If you missed it yesterday, I have a colossal cranium.
I am HEED, all grown up.
Of course, I can buy a stretchy winter hat, but I have to be careful never to borrow anyone else’s stretchy winter hat, because when I’m done with it, it’s not going back to normal size. I scoff when someone offers me a “one size fits all” baseball cap. I know the truth: “one size fits all, but me”.
The problem is, I love hats. When I was eight, we went on a vacation in the Great American West and I was determined to have a Great American Cowboy Hat to wear on my Great American Noggin. My wish was granted, and I became the owner of a black cowboy had that would have been too large for most grown men. It fit me perfectly. Did I mention I was eight years old?
I was so proud of that hat. For the airplane ride home, we had to check it as an oversized carry on bag.
Time passed, I grew up, and my head grew up with me. My old black cowboy hat mocked me from the hat rack in my room. “Seriously? You used to wear me? On THAT head?” (An aside – Yes, I actually had a hat rack in my room as a teenager. It was filled with cool hats that wouldn’t fit on my head)
A while ago, I was in a store that had leather Aussie hats of the kind that I’ve always liked. So, what the heck, I tried one on.
The largest they had on the shelf was an XL, and it perched on top of my head like a frightened parrot. I asked the sales guy if they had any larger ones. He looked at me with a look that said, “Why would we need larger ones?”
I was determined. Plan B: the world wide webs. There had to be someone out there with an XXL hat that will do the trick. A few minutes of searching and, bless you Amazon, I found my XXL hat at a reasonable price. Several days later the hat arrived, and voila! An XXL leather Aussie yarmulke.
Way too much space above the ear.
I had been prepared to embrace my distinction as a wearer of an XXL hat, but, seriously? I need to look for XXXL? Do I qualify for some kind of government subsidy because of this?
More web searching. Lo and behold, the fine folks at killerhats.com have an assortment of XXXL hats! Killerhats uses the slogan, “A Look ‘To Die For'”. I think they should change it to “Killerhats – Hope for the Hydrocephalic”. I packed up the tiny XXL hat for return and proudly placed my order for an XXXL Aussie hat.
The big day came: the big hat came. Success! A hat that fits!!!!! Cue the Hallelujah Chorus!
Then one last set back. I ordered a black XXXL hat, but I really like brown better. Ugh. So, I prepare to return the wonderfully expansive black hat, and I decide to actually pick up the phone and call about a brown one. Steve, my hero at killerhats, says they’re out of XXXL. He calls the manufacturer to order more and they tell him, “NOBODY runs out of XXXLs!” I have set a new standard of cranial greatness and hat consumption. Only a few days later (thank you Steve), my newly minted giant Aussie hat was in my hands and on my head.
This tells me something. I’m in an elite group. I can proudly wear my XXXL hat knowing that I possess a cranial capacity that sets me, uh, head and shoulders above the rest.
There could be advantages. Perhaps the Mensa IQ test has a check box at the top that says, “XXXL hat size, check this box…you’re in!” Also, if I stow my hat at a fancy restaurant at the coat check, nobody is going to accidentally take mine home. At last, my colossal cranium has been legitimized by a hat that fits.
So from now on, you can call me HEED. I don’t mind.