Author’s note: There have been many mis-translations of the story of creation in the Book of Genesis. In honor of the coming of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, during which we return to read the beginning of the Torah and the story of creation, I have returned to the original Aramaic, which I do not know how to read, in order to make up something more accurate. I offer here an alternate interpretation of the first book of the Bible adding a version of this “herstory,” to the Midrash.

“And on the sixth day, after creating Adam and seeing that he was good and all, God thought it would be interesting to make someone new. Someone who God could really talk and connect with, for Adam was often busy tending the sheep.”

And God spake, “Adam, I will rib you. And in turn you will be pissed, and you will rib Eve.” And Adam spake and said, “I will do one better, God, I will bone her.” And God said, “That’s not funny.” And Eve was created from the funny bone, to rib Adam, and she, through no sin of her own, became the joke itself.

And one day, for more fun, God thusly spake,

“Eve, having eaten the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, I cast you out from the Garden of Eden, and not only shalt you and Adam know you are naked, but also that you are hairy, and thou shalt internalize Adam’s new-found judgments and harsh opinions about your naked, hairy body. And you shall speak them aloud to yourself, and Adam shall be annoyed that you don’t have more self-confidence. And you shall forget that we are BFFs, for you have clouded your mind with the duality of good and evil.

And I will make thy hair sprout from every nook and cranny, such that you will be like a monkey, and you will know from whence you came. For that creationist crap is crazy, even to me. And I’m supposed to love everyone equally, but they are little sh*ts. But the Lord digress-ith.

Upon the birth of thy children, I shall make thy hair cover nothing of thy body, so that thy mother and father see they have use, and seeing that you are a helpless thing alone in the world outside my garden, and they shall cover thee and keep thee. And the more hair that groweth on thy body, the less they will protect you, until one day you shall protect your helpless, hairy mother and father.

And I shall make the girl child less hairy than the boy child, but only slightly. And thy parents will protect the girl child more, but only slightly. And on the thirteenth month of the twelfth year of your birth, girl-child, thou shalt grow-est wisps of hair, small wisps, at first, signaling thy womanhood.

But I shall make you wait a very long time. Much longer than the time it takes for Sarah or Rachel’s hair and bosom to arise, so that you are sufficiently worried I do not exist, and so that you shall pray to me for grace. And on that day, just a little bit later than all of the other girls, blood shall fall from between thy thighs, and hair shall grow to cover thy blood-stained legs.

And then when thou hast lived 15 summers and 15 winters outside the garden, thou wilst receive a seemingly perfect amount of flesh and hair, everywhere. The hair of your crown shall be long and bereft of split ends, and the hair everywhere else short and similar in tone to the color of thy skin. And you shall shine like a light unto man, but thou shalt have no idea this is happening.

And I shall I command no man notice you who is between the ages of 15 and 19, who will want to know everything but you. Though men older than 19 shall give uncomfortable, unexplained stares. But anyway, thy hair shall be luxurious, shiny, and thick, and it will cover your crown.

Yet you will shave not your legs, nor your armpits. Thou shalt shave thy head like that of Sinead O’Connor, an act of rebellion thou wilst remember as ironic later in life. And they shall call this time the Hairy 90s.

And man will say to you, ‘Thou defy-ist thy Lord your God.’

And I shall say, ‘Thou defy-ist only Man.’ And thou shalt dye thy hair all the colors of the rainbow, and thy hairy father and mother shall pray to me for comfort.

And in your 20s, the Lord your God will grow the hair on your parts darker and thicker than before, as was that of those that came before you, and you will curse me. And in seeing you are not the golden child always to be blessed with the perfect amount of hair, you shall be humbled. And you shall know your perfect hair day was only a step along the way to the final destination.

And I will begin to grow your hair in a deluge, and there will be hair flowing from between your eyebrows to the tops of your toes, to your chin, and above your lip, and you shall take the name of the Lord your God in vain again, as the pain from the electrolysis and the hot wax is emblazoned on your soul, and you shall long for the Hairy 90s, and on this day, you shall truly know you have been expelled from the Garden of Eden.

And the hair on the backs of your legs will grow thick and coarse. And you will not curse it, but he who loves you, will, and he will call this dark hair near the place of birth, ‘gross,’ and you will curse him, and consider that Groupon for laser hair removal.

And you will travel many miles to meet she who is called Olga, who will ply you with wine and Ibuprofen and a cream to numb the parts, and you will shout, ‘Lo, the country of Brazil has forsaken me, as it has forsaken all women.’ And you will not realize the laser must grace you again and again to remove the hair, and I shall command the hair to grow back. And all this pain shall be for naught, and your coin spent in vain.

And in your 30s, you shall still be without mate and without child and you shall wonder, ‘Hast this God no mercy?’

And I shall make a plague upon available men at the age of 35, and they shall disappear from the earth, and those that do not die shall avert their eyes from you. Except that one guy who seems needy and works as a security guard, and I shall point their eyes toward the hairless and the meek. And thou shalt shave thy parts day upon day, in an effort to be hairless and meek.

And the young, meek chicks shall inherit the earth’s men.

And I shall make a pox on the land called Photoshop so no real earthly woman between any sea shall grace the cover of a magazine. And thou shalt swim in a sea of cream, and thy face cream, eye cream, thy cleanser, thy toner, thy calming cream, thy wrinkle cream, thy depilatory, thy wax, thy scar cream, thy tooth powder, thy gum rinse, thy tooth whitening gel, thy hair spray, thy hair conditioner, thy hair oil, and thy eyelash-thickening cream and eyelash-thickening paint shall cover thy beauty though sheer exhaustion of application, seeing thou hast created a hell of thyne own making, just so some dude with a comb-over will want to know you.

And I shall turn thy hair silver, to make you like a crone in the eyes of man, to seem as though your child-bearing age has passed, and you shall again call upon me and hear nothing—and you shall take it upon yourself to find a man to make dye for your hair.

And man shall make this dye like a poison unto you and bring about a cancer. And thou shalt refuse this and instead brew the leaves of a plant from a distant shore, which will restore the color to thy hair, but shall make it straight as a waterfall, and you will crave the curl of your youth and you will burn your hair with my rod and my staff every morning, heating it into submission, to wave with its former glory, but it shall split and break under the heat and pressure, and grow no longer to your breast, but on your breast instead.

And those dark hairs on the left side of thy chin shall grow and be plucked day upon day, and thou shall wonder-est if thy hormones are off.

And as the sun rises and sets, the hair shall fall from your head so often it shall be as if you are walking on a carpet of your own making. And you shall have grown and lost so much hair that only I shall protect you.

And thou shalt take what is given and make the most of it, and Woman, thou shalt know the Lord thy God is your BFF, ribbing you, forever and ever.”

Amen. Ah, men. Oh, man, sister.

 

Relephant:

Women’s Body Hair is Sexy.

~

Author: Alicia Dattner

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Courtesy of author, via depositphotos.com