Besides getting us kicked out of the Garden of Eden and relegated to suffering the pains of childbirth until the advent of the epidural, Eve also subjected her ovarian heirs to another curse. (Our all-knowing God, of course, foresaw that epidural thing coming.)
It stinks to not live in paradise, where we would all get Yard of the Month, every month, where buds would bloom in a rainbow of colors, and weeds would wilt at the Garden gates. In my opinion Eve didn't get a fair shake.
I'm not questioning the wisdom of God when I say that painful childbirth thing seems a bit harsh. I'm only pointing out that Eve gave Adam an apple he would have eaten anyway, if he could have found it himself. When Adam came to Eve, his helpmate, complaining that the Lord told him that the big tree in the center of the garden had fruit on it, but for the life of him he couldn't see any, Eve naturally, like all wives do, rolled her eyes, moved the milk, pointed to the fruit, and said, "It's right there."
Can you really blame Eve for plucking a piece of the tree's produce and giving it to Adam when he replied, "Where?" I can see her handing it to her betrothed, sarcastically saying, "Do you see it now?"
But I do not question the sovereignty of God, and I know that men suffer right along with women during childbirth. First a wife commands, "Get over here," then, "Get away from me," followed by, "Rub my back right there," punctuated with, "Would you stop?!" Finally she traps him. "Did you call your parents yet?" Right as he says, "Hello," his wife snaps, "Hang up the phone. I can't take you talking to your mother right now!"
But, like I said, the epidural eliminated much of the misery of making the leap into parenthood. So God had a backup plan. The moment Adam and Eve ate those forbidden apples, a horrified Eve said, "Oh look at me. I'm naked. And my hair! Adam, how does my hair look? I really can't leave the Garden with it in this rat's nest."
Yes, thanks to Eve, the Lord instituted a clever backup plan: For all eternity woman shall lament to her husband that her hair is too limp, too fine, too damaged, too thick, too thin, too poofy, too frizzy. Man shall toil the dirt of the earth to sustain woman's habit of purchasing overpriced products and titanium tipped tools. And no hairdresser shall ever be able to give the same haircut twice.
Thus began man's quest for neutral comments like, "It looks fine. I like it how you like it. You're always beautiful to me."
Thus began woman's quest to possess something other than what God gave her. Girls with straight hair seek curls. Girls with wavy locks seek sleek and smooth. Those with fluff want to go flat; those with thick want to go thin. And men, as part of marital bondage, must tolerate the female obsession and provide reassurance.
For years a woman I know, born with straight, light-brown locks, visited hairdresser after hairdresser, seeking curls and rich color like the Holy Grail. Then her hair fell out during cancer treatment. When her hair grew back, wah-la, curls in a deep chestnut. Now she straightens her hair and dyes it blond.
Her husband, confused by his wife's change of heart, still has his head in the refrigerator yelling that he can't find the mayo. And God looks down and smiles upon His creation.
Lucy Adams is a syndicated columnist, freelance writer, and author of If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny. She lives in Thomson. Lucy invites readers to e-mail her at firstname.lastname@example.org and visit her web site, www.IfMama.com.