Monday Memory: curl talk

me and Heather
Take a brush to those ringlets and watch them fly!

***

Some enjoy a nice relaxing scalp massage. Some like having their hair brushed until it shines. Me, I like having my hair pulled when it's being styled or brushed.

A little strange, I know.

Not yanked or jerked or anything crazy. Just a tug.

I used to put my baby sister Adri up on my shoulders to “play” with my hair, because her little fingers would just pull on it. Sometimes Janie will do it now. One of my roommates, Nicole, and I used to brush each others hair while we watched movies, and I would always beg her to just pull mine. She hated doing it, afraid she was going to hurt me.

I am quite sure the hard head I have today was brought on by none other than: pink sponge rollers.

Saturday night bedtime meant meeting mom or dad at the couch with the red bag of pink curlers and a comb. Sometimes there were tears [I guess detangler hadn’t been invented yet.] They were never intentionally caused [though I am sure the temptation was there.] We slept with the curlers snapped firmly in place and come Sunday morning our heads were curly enough to make a clown jealous. Only we weren’t going to the circus. We were going to church.

One Sunday morning before church I was riding my bike around the neighborhood* and I saw one of my classmates playing in her front yard. I waved as I rode by. She waved back and all of a sudden she gave me a funny look. Laughing, she yelled, “You have a curler in your hair!” I was horrified. I’m sure my face went beet red in zero to five [it was just a bike, after all].

“I do not!” I yelled back defiantly. My pride didn't dare reach up to find out if she was right. I knew she wouldn't just make something like that up. I spun my bike around and pedaled home as fast as my feet could go, pretending not to hear that she was still giggling. Sure enough, upon arriving home I discovered the offending curler, somehow passed over in the uncombed mass of ringlets.

I probably wanted to pull my hair out a little after that. But, like I said, those curlers gave me a hard head. Apparently I got over it, because I still prefer my hair curly [though not by way of sleeping on chunks of pink foam].

I'm not entirely convinced it looks that much better now than it did way back when. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll go back.

But if you ever see me at the grocery store with a curler in my hair, go easy on me.

Just a tug, remember?

*I think I was about 8 or 9.