Icebreaker Speech

The following is an Icebreaker Speech I wrote for Toastmasters. It was my first speech I delivered for the club. I also brought pictures when I delivered it and I will scan them later.

Inside my red head

Today I am going to talk to you about my hair. It’s red. This spurs one of the questions I am most frequently asked – Are you Irish? It sounds even more original it sounds each time I hear it. Normally, this question is posed in a way that implies the person asking already knows the answer.

“You must be Irish, huh?” they’ll say with a knowing smile. Sometimes I wish I could answer no and completely blow their minds.

But yes, I am an American with Irish ancestry, and I have red hair, which is also frequently commented upon, usually by members of my family.

“Do something with that head of yours,” my mom might say. “Did you dye your pretty red hair? Why do you want your grandmother to cry?” “You’ve got a lot of gray.” (That last was said by a hairdresser who clearly didn’t want a tip.)

My parents, both Irish-Catholics from the South Side of Chicago, were pleased to be able to count a freckled redhead among their progeny. My brother and sister disappointed by being blond and brunette, respectively.

Growing up, all was well for many years – my mom would invent interesting new hairstyles for me to wear to school each day, I was quiet and never got in trouble at school, and when I was 7 I got a cute shoulder-length bob. Yes, everything was great. Until I experienced an emotionally scarring experience that some may consider a rite of passage – a truly tragic haircut. It started with my sister. My mom took her to the hairdresser to get a modified wedge. What was a wedge referring to, you might say? At that time it meant a mushroom cut, or bowl haircut – think Dorothy Hamill, or Joey Lawrence from his Gimme a Break days .A modified wedge was something far more sinister.

A modified wedge was a cut that was just completely short all over. Picture a boys’ haircut in 1988 – this was the haircut that my mom got for me and my sister. To style it, she’d do a gel and comb-over method. I looked like Alex P. Keaton in a plaid jumper.

That was in second grade, and people were still talking about that haircut in grade 8. As graduation approached, Jenny Kent, the most popular girl in my class, cornered me in the bathroom one day and inquired if I had lost my hair in second grade due to illness, and that was why I had that horrible haircut. It was like she knew it was her last chance to get the answer to this burning question. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still talking about that haircut.

I refused to ever have my hair that short again. Aside from a brief sixth-grade interest in having awesome bangs, I also lost interest in styling it. At my all girls’ high school, styling your hair meant MAYBE you washed it that day. It was a point of pride how many pens you could fit in your bun. I still don’t enjoy the hassle of doing my hair.

However, when I was in college, my sorority sister Melissa Pirolli introduced to the wonders of the gold-plated straightener – and I’ve never looked back. This magical instrument could reduce my coarse, fluffy hair into … while not a shiny waterfall of hair, a less coarse, shinier version of itself. My hair could be so much flatter! It was amazing.

Since then, I’ve experimented with ion straighteners, ceramic straighteners, the CHI and the HAI.
For those of you who don’t know, the CHI and the HAI are to hair straightening what the 2005 White Sox were to baseball – amazing, and capable of things you never dreamed possible.

My hair became especially important when I started getting involved in comedy. I’ve studied at Second City and the IO theater. Growing up, I was always the shy girl. In grade school, I spoke so rarely that all the boys would shout at me during recess “Kristin, are you trying to say something? Kristin, are you trying to say something?” I found I could barely muster the guts to say “Not to you!” I was terrified of talking to people. I got much older as I got older, but I never would have imagined that performing was something that I could be good at. I was used to my muttered jokes being stolen by my louder friends …

But studying improv was something I turned out to actually be good at. It’s a lot easier for me to be on stage in front of a large group than it is to have a one-on-one conversation. I’m not going to be famous anytime soon, but I’ve performed at Second City in several shows and with my sketch group there, and at Chicago Sketchfest.

What does hair have to do with this? Well, having perfect hair when performing can increase your confidence by 115%. It’s proven. I still count my blessings that I found my hairdresser before my audition for the Second City Conservatory. This audition was a big deal – my idols like Tina Fey and Stephen Colbert were graduates. I knew that if I wanted to make it on my first try, I had to have perfect hair.

Thankfully, I had already discovered Goran Cobanovski, a delightful, heterosexual, Macedonian man who always tells me I’m pretty. Under the tutelage of Vidal Sassoon, Goran learned methods of styling that give me the shampoo-commercial hair I’d always dreamed of.

The day of the audition, I took off work in order to get my hair done beforehand , and arrived, face framed by glossy perfection. I nailed the audition (something Tina Fey failed to do!) and got my acceptance letter a few weeks later. Improv has been great for me, providing a creative outlet and so many new friends.

Through it all, Goran’s always there for me, doing my hair for my first sketch show, on my birthday, and other special occasions. I hope to soon embark into the terrifying world of stand-up, and I know Goran will be styling my hair for my first show.