title

My Mother was obsessed with my hair. Well, I think I can say that she was obsessed with curly hair. She had thick, straight, dark brown hair. She kept a home perm in it and swore to anyone who wanted to know that it was naturally curly. My Mother wore her hair about the length and style of Pasty Cline, a very poplar country singer at the time I was growing up. When I was a baby, my hair was blond and curly. My Mother loved my hair then. As I grew older, my hair grew longer and straighter.

I was in the second grade the first time I had a hair cut. Until then, I had the longest hair in school. My Mother always fussed over my hair because she wanted a blond, curly haired daughter and she got a blond, very straight haired daughter who usually came home with cockleburs in it. I hated hair brushing/combing time. Mom or Granny would sit me down on my knees between their knees and take the brush to the top of my head and drag it down till a burr stopped it. Then they would work their magic with a comb and remove the burr. I believe that their hair brushing techniques are the reason I have the least tender head in the whole world; there are no nerve endings left. My Mother would pin curl, sponge curl, or roll it in brush rollers every Saturday. Because it was so long and thick, it’d take all day to dry. I’d have to play baseball on Saturdays with my hair in rollers or pin curls. I hated it. Then when they’d take it down, it’d be curly for a few minutes, then straighten out completely.

Braiding was something else I dreaded. Granny would braid my hair in two braids so tight my eyebrows would end up on the side of my head. She always braided it wet and when it was taken out of the braids, I had the biggest, waviest hair in town for about an hour. Then it would again straighten out.

My Granny was almost as obsessed with my hair as my Mother. When I was five years old I was in the Christmas play at church. Granny was determined that my hair was going to stay in Shirley Temple type curls that night. She mixed up a sugar and water solution and put it in my hair then made the long spiral curls we all knew. Well, the solution dried and my hair stayed in the curls, but every time I shook my head, the curls would bounce together and, I swear, you could hear them clink together all through the church! It sounded like a wind chimes.

But my worse hair experience was the perm my Mother saved up for. One Saturday when I was in the first grade she and I walked to town to Maudie’s Beauty Shop and I got a perm. It must have taken Maudie hours to get my hair into the perm rollers. Then the perm solution was applied. It smelled so awful I had to go outside twice to puke. But, when Maudie was done, my hair looked beautiful. I remember Maudie brushing it and tying it back in a red ribbon. As Mom and I walked home, several old women stopped us to tell us how pretty my hair looked. My Mom was so proud of my hair. It was worth every penny of the $25 Mom had saved and spent on it.

That is until I got home and played outside with my brothers for about an hour. Then my hair went totally straight again. Well, my Mother wasn’t going to let the $25 she’d spent on the perm get away so darn fast. She marched me right back to Maudie’s and had her do a second perm. I again sat there while she put the perm rods in my hair and I again had to go outside and puke when she applied the perm solution. She again tied my beautiful curly hair in a pretty red ribbon and sent us on our way. By the time we got home my hair was straight. I had missed all of that Saturday’s ballgame. That was the day my Mother finally gave up on me having curly hair.

Nothing was ever said about it again until I started whining about getting a hair cut. Everyone was wearing their hair in a pixie cut the year I was in the third grade. I begged and pleaded to no avail. Being the only girl out of seven children, my hair would remain long for as long as Mom had any say about it. That is until the girls who lived next door showed up with the cut I wanted. Mom just knew that my straight hair would look so much cuter than theirs. Mine was straight and thick and theirs was thin with a slight wave. So back to Maudie’s we went and I got the perfect pixie haircut. Except that now that the weight of my long hair was gone, my hair was in ringlets!

I don’t know what emotion was stronger in my Mom. Was she thrilled that my hair was finally curly or was she disappointed that my pixie cut turned into a fro? I think the curls won out. From then on I spent every Saturday morning getting my hair brushed and combed and styles in every curly style my Mom had ever seen.

I spent my teenage years ironing and straightening my hair much to my Mother's disappointment. I hated my curly hair. Actually, most females I know with very curly hair hate it while most with straight hair envy it. I still love baseball and miss playing and I still hate my curly hair.