Thursday, October 07, 2010

Curly Locks

At 10:30 this morning I have an appointment to get my hair permed.  For me, this is not an easy thing to do.  Tucked in the back of my head are vivid memories of some pretty scary things that happened to me over the years while getting my hairstyle changed.

The first such occasion was when I was about 8 years old and had thick, long hair.  Mom sat me up on the kitchen table so she could trim it, and because it was so thick and snarly, she would also use the thinning shears.  She reached down for the thinning shears and accidentally picked up the regular scissors and hacked off a big chunk of my hair right next to my scalp right in the back of my head.  Not only did she drop the shears and start sobbing and screaming, but that was the last time I had really long hair.

So, then my hair was short, and Mom decided she wanted me to look like a little Curly Locks.  She enjoyed fiddling with my hair, and so she would give me home perms, and at that young age there was nothing I could do about it.  In the 1950s, Lilt and Toni were the home perms of choice because they were cheap and easy to give.  I remember the one time Mom got the curling rods tightly in place, squeezed all the appropriate ammonias and other gag-inducing liquids to my hair, then wrapped my head in a dish towel and let my hair dry and curl overnight.  When my head was unveiled the next morning, I thought for sure they'd have to change the ethnic origin on my birth certificate.  But, that wasn't the half of pictures were taken that day!

As I grew older, I took control of my head and went through the phases of sleeping with huge pink curlers, slathering on pink Dippety Do, ratting and teasing, highlighting and more perming, short pixies, French Twists, and shag styles.  One perm, given to me at a salon, fried my hair into a crispy frizz that required the purchase of a wig.  Another time during a highlighting session, a beautician  screwed up somehow, and my hair turned canary yellow.  Yes, canary yellow.  My appointment lasted 5 hours, and the gal called every beautician in town frantically pleading for advice, until finally she got my hair to a color that halfway matched my complexion.  My Mother nearly collapsed on that one.

So it is with apprehension that I go into my day.  I shall request a perm that will hopefully give my hair only a bit of bounce and volume.  But, time has taught me to expect curls....probably more than I want. 

Wasn't Our Creator ever so clever when he designed us humans?  Why he decided to gradually let hairs fall from the head of a man and land on the face of a woman is puzzling, but I guess that's what he wanted cuz that's the way it is.  Actually, there are an amazing number of annoying facets to being human and to this business of those unwanted 'things' that after age 50 start to sprout and take on a life of their own.  Guess all we can do is tend to ourselves as best we can, and the older we get....well, the less we really care.  Maybe that's what our Creator was seeking.....our letting go of our silly vanities.

Today's Trivia:  The saying, Mind your P's and Q's, comes from the time when alcoholic beverages were served/sold in Pints and Quarts.  Thus, to mind your P's and Q's meant to be careful how much you drank.