« News!!! | Party At Chi Alpha Sigma Sigma Iota Epsilon!!! » |
I'll just have you know, that it's girls like you, with curls like yours, who made me cry every special occasion morning. You know, those mornings before some wedding I was in or recital I was to sing for. Those mornings? oh, those mornings when I slept with horrible, terrible, ridiculous-looking rollers in my hair for the entire night before, after an hour of my saintly and patient mother partitioning each waist-long section of wet rat hair and bundling it up around little pieces of pink foam that made my brothers cackle at me hysterically. Then, of course, there was the morning of the event, when each roller had to be taken out and so many got tangled and pulled out clumps of my hair. Yet, still it wouldn't look right. Out came the curling iron - reinforcements, as they say ? and sitting in a kitchen chair, with the morning chill of the bathroom linoleum seeping up through my toes, being primped in my velvet puff-skirt dress and petticoats, I?d wait as my mother tried to twist and steam my limp eighties-style-perm locks into my dream of Shirley Temple Goodness. But it was not to be. Even when it came out decently, considering my wholly unhelpful and unmanageable hair, within twenty minutes it had wilted into a sad cascade of nothing but a wave here, a crimp there, with ne?er a curl to be found and no trace of the freckles and/or dimples I thought for sure would materialize on my nose and cheeks as the direct result of such beautiful, impishly girly and cute hair that never was mine for the taking after all.
I?m sorry Crystal, but I will forever bear a grudge. Perhaps this is why I use earrings ? ?multiples,? as they also say ? to overshadow the freakshow that is my hair. Limp, uninventive, lacking curls. Yes. And I never got the freckles either.