Scenario the first:
“Oh, is that a picture of you with your sister?” asked the the girl a deeply scoop-necked sweater next to me. The picture in question features my seven or eight year old self posing, entirely unselfconscious, with a toddler brother sporting waist long blond bottle curls. I had killer maternal instincts as a kid, and they show through in that photo.
“That’s actually my brother,” I returned to my seat neighbor. I can’t remember why that old picture was in my notebook. Detritus of life, I suppose. It all ends up in my notebook eventually. “We don’t cut our boys’ hair until their third birthday,” I offered by way of explanation.
“You don’t mind that all your little boys look like girls?”
And I am graced with the standard ‘you are a bunch weirdos’ look. You get used to that after a little while.
Scenario the second:
“You made a huge party for your three-year-old?” exclaimed a rude middle eastern guy the size of an ox. This was beyond rude, when you consider who he was talking to. The Chassidish dude was nice enough to bring large bowls of salad and pasta and fancy baked goods leftover from his son’s Upsherin. Ox-guy could have shown a little gratitude, but I suppose that was beyond him.
“It’s a big thing by us,” the Chassidish dude explains, “the third birthday is when we cut their hair for the first time and…”
“Yeah, whatever,” Ox-guy interrupted, and proceeded to dig in, stopping to flash the above-mentioned ‘you are a weirdo’ look.
To be fair, the Upsherin is a concept that strikes non-frummies strange when they first hear about it. And when they ask you to explain why you do it, the explanation is not a simple, easy textual one you can rattle off, either.
One area for which weirdo looks are inevitable.