Twirl the curls

Having grown up sort of a geek, I never really experimented with my hair till suddenly, a few years ago, as a mother of a two year old, secure and confident in my job and family, I finally decided to expand my "hair horizon". Possessing straight, thick, long hair, I would watch with envy the curls and bouncing ringlets of hair product models. While their tresses looked playful, impish, free-flowing, mine looked bland - slick-straight. What God didn't provide, I decided to get from science - a perm. Or should I?
Bob, my hair dresser, fussing over my hair was non-committal to the idea - "You know that chemicals can damage your hair, even a soft one". What kind of hair dresser would turn away business, I thought!! A good one, I guess.
My husband was no help either - "It's your hair" - he said. What did he mean by that? Did he mean, "Hey, it's your hair, you should feel free to do what you want" or did he mean "I wouldn't do it, but it's your hair. You want to destroy your hair, go right ahead".
Over lunch, I discussed the idea with the girls at work. Christine reminisced about her "Low and tight" haircut in late 80s - shaved on sides and back up to a line above the ears and left longer on the top - "An old lady at the grocery store checkout line saw my partially shaved head, thought I had a brain surgery or something and decided to sympathize with me". She blew a bubble with her gum and continued in her dry matter-of-fact tone - "I put her right in her place and told her I cut it this way because I wanted to". Patty had her own tales to tell about little old ladies giving her grief about her fluorescent pink Mohawk that she sported. I squirmed and moved my pasta around the plate. I wasn't thinking of getting something "this" drastic done to my hair.
After couple days of anguished decision making, I decided to go for it. The next Saturday found me at Anthony Palmer’s hair salon, a little scared, but extremely excited, ready for my perm. Bob explained the process in a clinical tone – he was basically going to roll my hair up in large roller rods for softer curls, douse them in some chemicals, and then rinse it out after an hour or so. I gulped and nodded my approval. We chatted while he worked; about kids – his daughters, my son; politics – democrats are good, we don’t talk about republicans; hair – how he has none and I have quite a bit and how I should never ever blow dry my permed hair; and then we were ready for the rinse and my first look in the mirror.
I could hear the harps playing, the choir of angels singing, my lips lifted up in a smile which transformed to a big grin – it was perfect, just the way I had envisioned it! I shook my head and my wet curls bounced around a little – just like in those hair ads. Back at home, my husband thought I looked a little weird, but “It’s your hair”, he repeated. My two year old cringed as I bent to lift him up, peered closely at my face, finally recognized me and gave me a smile. I couldn’t wait to get to work on Monday to show off my hair.
On Sunday morning, I ran to the mirror to check my new hair-do and screamed – What happened to my curls? They were all gone, well, almost all gone. My hair hung limp, almost straight. My anguished cries startled my sleeping husband who ran to the bathroom to rescue his wife in trouble. He found me sitting on the toilet seat, sobbing my heart out. He suggested calling up the hair dresser. “He’s closed on Sunday”, I hiccupped through my sobs. “Well, ummm…, maybe he has a hot line or something?” he offered limply. I looked up and glared at him. He just patted me on the head – “Honey you still look beautiful!” I moped around the house in my pajamas the whole day, wondering if I should just shave my head and be done with the whole affair.
I dragged myself to the shower Monday morning. As I was towel drying the source of my anguish, I felt something was different. Instead of straight tresses, my fingers found masses of curls. I slowly wiped away up the fog on the mirror – and behold – the curls were back! I screamed with joy! For the 2nd day in a row, my sleeping husband ran groggily to the bathroom to offer his moral support to his anguished wife. Instead he found me hopping around the bathroom, grinning with glee. I vaguely remembered Bob, my hair dresser mentioning that the hair may straighten out while pressed against the pillow, but should bounce back when washed.

To wrap this up – I wore those curls for a couple of month, got bored of them, got my hair cut really short and moved on with my life.