Here’s the thing. I cannot wear hats. Can. Not. I have been genetically annoyed blessed with one large melon, and this melon has no interest in sporting a hat. In fact, the act of trying to find a hat that would maybe even think about fitting could be classified as a sporting competition. One that I’ve won once.
One time, four years ago, I found an adorable, knitted, winter newsboy cap that fit beautifully. I was elated. But, I cannot count that find, because it is most decidedly not the norm.
Anyway, my lack of hat finding is not for a lack of trying. I’ve always liked the look of baseball caps and newsboy caps and straw hats and cowboy hats and other trendy head attire. Lots of women pull off the look every day—with ponytails pulled through or slung low, or curls creeping out. What female hasn’t cured a bad hair day by simply smoothing her hair under a hat?
Me. That’s who.
I’ve tried all sorts of hats, in all sorts of styles and sizes. I’ve sifted through scores of stores and racks and displays. Yet, I’ve never found a hat—aside from that adorable, knitted, winter, newsboy cap four years ago—that doesn’t look as though (a) I’ve stuffed my head into it or (b) it’s about to pop off my head. That is, if I manage to pull it on at all.
I’ve been resigned for a while now to the fact that hats will never be a staple in my wardrobe. However, I’ve not entirely given up on them, because, well, there was that adorable, knitted, winter newsboy cap four years ago.
Realistically, however, the statistics are not in my favour. The circumference of my head? 24.5 inches or 62.23 not-so-small centimetres. The average circumference of a woman’s one-size-fits-all-because-that’s-the-only-size-hats-come-in hat? 21 inches or 53.34 non-stretchy centimetres. Bummer, right?
On paper, it appears that I could wear a man’s baseball cap, as they are generally manufactured to fit heads with circumferences between 21 5/8 inches (54.9 cm) and 25 inches (63.5 cm). But, that sizing assumes the height of my head is average. False assumption. While my head’s diameter is wide, my head’s height is tall. Taaaall.
Which means baseball caps “large enough” to fit my head look like wee little beanie caps on me.
A few weeks back, I was helping my in-laws with some yard work, and my father-in-law offered me a ball cap so that I wouldn’t burn my scalp while cutting the grass. I declined, knowing full well that it wouldn’t fit so well. He was determined. I acquiesced and perched the cap on my head. It came to a halt a solid two inches (5.08 cm) and then some above the tops of my ears.
To which my mother-in-law said, “Well, at least you have a visor to help protect your forehead.”
Translation: At least no one from the general public will be able to see you.
Ah, well. Such is life. I’ve grown accustomed to my large noggin. And my inability to outfit it with hats other than that adorable, knitted, winter, newsboy cap from four years ago.
Today, my friend Brianna shared with me an article about a study recently published in Neurology, the medical journal of the American Academy of Neurology. It revealed that a larger head size may protect against symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease.
I can live with that. And without hats. But, I won’t stop looking. Because, I never know when I’ll cross paths with another adorable, knitted, winter, newsboy cap like that one from four years ago.