Big Hair
posted in Fun Stuff, OmegaDotter, Pop Culture |One of the Great Truths about me is that I never mastered Big Hair. The only time I came close was when I had my poodle perm (see this post). My hair has always been, and always will be, fine, straight, thin, silky hair that loses any hint of a curl when the relative humidity goes past 20%. Since I grew up in Chicago, and lived there during the majority of the ’80s, perms were the only path to curldom.
Then there was the fact that, if one really wanted it, one could get Big Hair by spending inordinate amounts of time in the bathroom, fiddling with curlers, curling irons, hair spray, and teasing. I had more important things to do, such as read. Or write.
Anyway, I muddled through the ’80s as best I could.
Another Great Truth: the dotter, though totally genetically unrelated to me, has that same hair: fine, straight, thin, silky.
So last night, as you know, I subjected the dotter to soft curlers all over her head.
Of course, some came out during the night.
But! The rest stayed in, and when they were unrolled, her hair was quite bouncy and curly.
I combed. I sprayed. I curling-ironed her bangs. I didn’t do any hair-teasing because I am morally against such things. So here’s our ’80s cowgirl, looking sassy (i.e., making a face):
It actually was big! Here’s a close-up (the color is off and I couldn’t figure out how to correct it):
In which you can immediately tell that the bang curls didn’t do what they’re supposed to, and you can see some straight hairs that escaped the entire curler fiasco.
But the sad thing is that the dotter’s hair, like mine, immediately began to go flat. Obviously, even though I applied what I thought was a dreadful amount of hair spray, lifting locks and spraying under them, holding them up so they’d dry a bit fluffy, it was all for naught. By the time I haul her off to gymnastics this afternoon, the curls will be a sad, sorry shadow of themselves. All that will be left is sticky residue.
Sigh.
The good news is that she will not be subjected to an entire decade of trying to do this every morning.
There were no shoulder pads (how could I forget shoulder pads?! But I did!). There were, however, jean legs tucked into the boots, and a hair pick in the back pocket.
