It was high school. Of course it was high school, as evidenced here by my oh-so ecstatic grad year photo. Okay, it was actually middle school, too, but I can still blame my mom, at least a little, for the hair then. It wasn’t until the 2nd half of middle school that I attempted a little control and insisted on getting contact lenses and growing my hair longer.
But I still had a perm.
Is it really any surprise that my nickname was Poodle? That even ended up on my grad jacket. I kid you not.
And I kept getting perms, year after year throughout those formative years. Spiral perms, piggy back perms, plain ol’ perms, loose perms, tight perms. Sometimes my hair was layered, sometimes there were bangs [often in wall form- you know of what I speak], but always with forced waves and kinks.
Better still, it was often seen to be growing in stick straight.
I don’t want to know how much of my busser’s cut of the tip money went to soaking my head in curling chemicals on a regular basis [I was waaaay to chicken to home perm, even at that age of invincibility]. I probably could have paid my way through university.
But, I’ve grown oh so older and wiser over the intervening years: I now soak my scalp in colouring chemicals instead.
This post is, of course, part of a Parent Bloggers Network Blog Blast for Beauty Confidential. Only they could cause me to so publicly shame myself in this manner in another attempt to find the dream of fool proof self improvement. There are, however, cool prizes, but your post has to be up in the next couple of hours!