Simply Lou: Anatomy of a Hissy Fit

article and illustration by Lou Davenport

The dictionary defines “hissy fit” as a sudden outburst of anger due to frustration. I’d agree with that, but since I consider myself an authority on them, I have found there’s a lot more to be said about the “hissy fit.”

First of all, there’s several different kinds of “hissy fits” that you may “throw” or “pitch.” I don’t think there’s much difference in the two. There’s “s*#t fits,” “running hissy fits,” “lolling about hissy fits,” “rolling and flailing hissy fits,” “throw stuff hissy fits,” “kicking hissy fits,” “yelling hissy fits,” and “jump up and down hissy fits.” There’s “tizzies,” “temper tantrums,” and “conniptions.” I think I’ve had them all at some point or another. You can also blend them together as in a “yelling, jump up and down hissy fit,” if you want. I also believe “hissy fits” do not just belong to Southerners. They seem to be an international phenomenon.

In everything worth doing, there’s a few rules I try to adhere to. It takes a lot of physical and emotional energy to throw a good hissy. If done right, you’ll be tired when you are done. Since I’ve gotten older I have to stick with “yelling hissies” but not often. I think the last “yelling hissy” I had was about six years ago, and it was in order. Always throw them with gusto though! If you are going to have one, don’t do it “half-assed.” Go for the gold! Go big or go home! In my golden years, I find them very therapeutic.

When I was very young, I was a “hand full” and a “brat” at times, I’m not going to lie! My hissy fits were usually brought on when I wanted to do something, have something, go somewhere and I was told no. I’d beg and plead, and when that didn’t work, I’d just go into a full blown “rolling hissy fit.” Those are the ones you get on the floor, roll around, flail your arms and legs and make a complete fool of yourself. Oh yeah, you yell about whatever it is that is making you act a fool. I always cried, too, so there was snot and tears flying. (I still cry whenever I get angry) They never worked. My Mama would just let me yell and “flail” until I wore myself out, lying in a pool of tears and snot.

My favorite floor to “throw my rolling hissy fits” was the kitchen. There was a lot more room to flop around in. If my Uncle Beeker happened to be visiting, he’d sing a song, “Let’s have a Hissy Time, let’s have a Hissy Time” (sang to “Ta Rah Rah BOOM de ay!) Oh, that would supercharge my hissy fit, and I would get all red in the face from being so angry! And I still didn’t get what I had wanted!

There’s another kind of hissy fit I “threw” that I named the “Lolling About Hissy Fit.” I’d have this kind when I was pulled away from my Saturday morning cartoons and made to go shopping with my grandmother and mama. I didn’t want to go the bank or to J.C Penney’s. So, after I pestered my mama for some of those Ford gumballs, I was ready to leave. They weren’t. So, I’d just pick out an aisle, lay down, go limp and just “loll” around hoping the time would hurry up and pass. If Cousin Margaret was along, she’d get embarrassed at my behavior and act like she didn’t know me! My mama and grandmother ignored me, too. I don’t think they were worried somebody might kidnap me!

There was one kind of “hissy fit” I threw that was purely fear induced. It seemed as if my mama took me to the doctor every time I sneezed. She would take me to the old creepy, scary Garnier Clinic, and I would just go into a near panic. I’d bury my head in her lap with my little cotton panties shining and wail! Sometimes I’d wedge myself under her chair and wail more! When we got called back, she’d drag me kicking and screaming into the doctor’s office. I KNEW I was going to get a shot. They gave me a shot for anything, even a hang nail! I got up under the doctor’s desk once and they had to drag me out and hold me down for that damn shot. One time I escaped and ran out the back door. “We have a runner!” I had no idea where I was going, but, I sure didn’t want any kind of shot. Unfortunately, I was caught before I made it out of the doctor’s parking lot. That ol’ Clinic was the “stuff of nightmares,” and I wish I could have been there the day they knocked it down with a wrecking ball. No wonder I have “doctor phobia!”

As I got older, I didn’t throw as many hissy fits. I stopped rolling around and flailing and lolling on floors. I would have “running hissy fits.” Oh, those were fun! You get all frustrated and angry and just go “stomp-running” through the house and slam your bedroom door. Then, you proceed to pout! Nobody cared. Ignored again. All those outstanding dramatics for nothing.

Eventually, I did grow up, get married and had three kids of my own. I KNOW my mama put the “Mama’s Curse” on me, too. I’ve gotten paid back in three’s! And I will say this, my kids are all “thoroughbred hissy fit throwers.” Each one has a different style!

My firstborn, Carolyn was the best at having “broken record syndrome.” That’s when one will not stop saying what they want over and over and over and over. She knew she wasn’t going to get whatever it was she wanted, but, she just wouldn’t give up. Once we’d just come back from the grocery store and she started in on me about something. I’d told her no. I’d asked her to stop, but that mouth just couldn’t stop. Before I realized what I was doing, I had ripped open a big package of toilet paper and started throwing rolls of it at her!

Carolyn would also drag the hose into the kitchen from the patio and spray whoever she was upset with and then run! She fell one of those times and broke her front tooth!

Adam was a whole other kind of “hissy fit thrower.” Oh, that boy could throw em! His specialty was “kicking hissy fits.” Once ,I took the whole gang to Burger King, and he wanted his hamburger without tomatoes. Well, in my “Mama” thinking, he could take the tomato off and give it to me. Oh No! No Way! He got all down in the seat behind mine and started kicking the seat and yelling about. “It’ll have TOMATO JUICE on it!” The more he kicked, the more I turned into a stubborn mule. He didn’t get that burger “made his way either!”

Another of his famous “hissy fits” happened at a furniture store. We’d gone to get him a new twin mattress for his bed. Out of the clear blue, he announced he absolutely had to have a water bed….and he proceeded to run all over the store upstairs and downstairs, because we were not getting him one. I was never so glad to drag him out of a place with a little of my dignity left intact.

Little sister Paige had the most dramatic of all the hissy fits. She’d get angry and go running through the house and fling herself on her bed and announce, “Nobody Loves ME!”

She decided she was going to run away from home one day, so I fixed her a little “hobo bag” on a stick and told her farewell. She got a little bit down the street and laid out in the neighbor’s yard. I think she thought she was “invisible.” (We could see her the whole time) I just left her alone and in a little while she decided she’d move back in! All was forgiven.

All three of them were pranksters. How they loved to aggravate each other and get stuff started. Paige would put on her “Wonder Woman Under-roos” and pull the panties up to give herself a wedgie so Carolyn would see it and go into a “tizzy” and start yelling, “Mama! She’s doing it again!” Paige would run away giggling! Adam would get out of the bathtub, wearing his little “tighty whities” and if one of his sisters was laying on the couch, he’s sneak up behind her and poot on her head. A high speed chase would ensue all over the house. Life was never dull.

I do admire those who can “throw a good hissy fit with great gusto, style and determination. One of the best “non-family” hissy fits I’ve ever seen was by a little girl at “Putt Putt” golf one night. She threw her putter as far as she could, then the ball and then, flung herself to the ground face first and started yelling. Everyone else just played on through.
Well done, kid, well done.