Eventually Tammy quit cutting hair. I was adrift. I know that probably doesn’t sound like a big thing. However, when you’ve got naturally curly hair, it’s a really big thing. At least it was for me. One bad cut takes forever to grow it when you’ve got curly hair. One guy cut my bangs so short once that by the time they dried I could’ve rented out ad space on my ginormous forehead. It was really awful. And there was just no way to disguise it. I mean if I looked like Halle Berry short bangs would be OK. But then if I looked like Halle Berry a lot of things would be OK, needless to say.

I looked around for awhile before settling a new woman to trust with my hair. She actually did a great job; but it was $35. I know that’s not an insane amount of money, but for me right now it was feeling like a lot. So I started looking around and discovered there was a Paul Mitchell school in west Houston, not too far from me. I looked online and read a number of reviews, which were all good. The price was just right too- $15. So I decided to give them a try.

Before they started I had to sign a waiver. That was kinda scary. However, I forged ahead. The young woman working on me was very nice; and before she began an instructor came and explained exactly what to do. The student seemed OK with the explanation, so I relaxed and let her start. When she finished cutting, she admitted that she’d never cut curly hair before. (I’m glad I hadn’t heard that before she started.) Then she decided to blow my hair out straight so she could see the layers and check her work.

I always wanted straight hair when I was in my teens and perhaps might’ve carried it off then; straight hair on me now is unforgiving and a really, really bad thing. When she was done I looked like the love child of Roseanne Rosanna Danna.  It was horrifying. It wasn’t silky and soft like the Breck girls, that I could never be. It was just straightish and bulky. And to top it off, Doug was waiting to pick me up.

It was really humid that afternoon so I thought that as soon as I went outside the humidity would do the trick and my curls would come back. However, without my knowledge, the stylist- to- be had put product in my hair to keep it straight until it was washed. I walked out and once again Doug looked at me and all he said was “That’s not permanent is it?” (He’s such a sweet talker.) Anyway, my tale of woe does have a happy ending. I washed my hair that night and like magic, my curls came back. I never knew I could miss them so much. I wonder, has everyone else gone through this too?

Chris Rock recently came out with a documentary called Good Hair. He decided to make the film after his little girl one day said, ” Daddy, why don’t I have good hair?” By good hair, she meant “white” hair he said.

In reality, she didn’t just want “white ” hair. She wants the white hair that is thick, straightish, silky and shiny.  Remember the Breck girls from the magazine ads in the 60′s and 70′s?  They all had “good” hair. Guess what? In the 60′s  I wanted that hair too; and I’m about as white as they come. In Jr.high I started looking at magazines and seeing models that didn’t look like me. Coleen Corby was tall, with a small bust and long, straight hair. I was short and busty, with curly or frizzy (depending on the humidity that day) hair.

I saw Susan Chalmers at the reunion. (We’ve known each other since 4th grade). The last time I’d seen her she still had red hair. Now it’s gray and cut short.  We must’ve talked 10 minutes, reminiscing about everything from Brownies to what our grown kids are doing now. After talking about her red hair, we discussed how it’s OK to have curly hair now, but not back then. It brought back so many memories, not all pleasant ones.

Every Saturday morning I had the same routine. Wash and condition my hair. Apply the Dep. (You do remember Dep don’t you?) Or perhaps you preferred Dippity-Do. Then I’d take my hair and start wrapping it sideways, across my forehead then around and around, clipping it in place as you go. If you had long, thick hair like I did, the wrapped hair got really thick. Then I sat under a dryer for at least three hours.  Somedays  it looked pretty good when I was done;  that is until I went outside.

My hair on a humid day

If it was really humid outside, I was screwed. Ten minutes after the humidity hit my hair I looked like a refugee from the Outback (Not the steakhouse). I never did iron my hair. However, I had it straightened more than once.  Finally, years after I finally made peace with my curls, Chi irons hit the scene. I could finally have the long silky hair I always wanted in my teens. For me though. I’m like Popeye now- “I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam”. Today’s trivia answer- Switzerland.

If you started with very short, curly hair like me, it’s a big deal. I endured months of really hideous hair styles. If you lived up north and it was winter you could hide it under a hat. Unfortunately I live in the hot, sticky south. Wearing a hat all winter while attempting to hide your hair wasn’t an option for me. Your female friends give you that knowing look- knowing that there isn’t a damn thing you can do with it in this in-between stage. (No one ever gets married with their hair at an in-between stage.) If you have naturally curly hair it takes at least twice as long to grow your hair out, or at least look grown out, due to the natural contraction of the curl.

I went through a stage where I looked like Little Lulu or Nancy from the comics. My hair kinda looked a curly brunette football helmet for awhile. The good news is that now it’s finally looking better. The process has taken over a year. As I was putting my hair up in a ponytail this morning when I noticed that the bottom layers of my hair aren’t very curly anymore. This is probably because my hair is still very thick and when it gets long, heavy. So I was thinking, what I could do to fix this short of using a curling iron, which I refuse to do.

Then I remembered something from my past, my long ago past. When I was a little girl we’d go and visit my grandmother. She had these great little pink things she put in her hair. They were made of rubber. You’d roll some hair around the middle of them and then flip the top part down over the bottom to secure it.

When her hair was all “set” she looked like a fleet of tiny pink flying saucers had landed on her head. I loved to play with those little things.  When I was older I learned that they were called “Spoolies.”  When I was 5 years old though I called them “Spooees.” I thought those things were the best. And of course, being a wonderful grandmother she was, she let me put them in her hair over and over again. (Then when I finished my cousin would do it all to her again. ) I haven’t see a Spoolie in at least 45 years. I assumed they had just gone the way of the dinosaurs. I did a Google search and lo and behold- they they were! The originals, made of rubber are on EBAY- 10 for $5 or so. The Vermont Country Store has new Spoolies made of plastic- 48 for $15.

So my plan is to order the new ones from Vermont. I will blog later about the results. Wish me luck.

spoolies