In Year 8, no amount of mousse (or gel for that matter) was giving me the tightness of the Nicole Kidman curl. So I had my hair permed.
Source for photo 1: Sticky-paged photo album full of really dorky shots of my friends and I patting kangaroos on a school camp. All with the same hairdo.
Source for photo 2: fanpop.com and similar to something I had blue-tacked to my bedroom wall.
And with that move, introduced a whole new fear of swimming. Not fear for my safety or my life, but worse. The real fear that upon putting your school dress back on at the pool or drying off by the waterfall on school camp, there’d by no mousse in anyone’s backpack to reapply. Sometimes I still wake up in the night in a cold sweat thinking about that.
I did avoid the perm (and probably swimming) for a while beforehand, by going to bed with my hair in rags. Every few nights, I’d take one of my long strips of red t-shirt fabric, wrap a strand of hair around and around the top half of the strip, then use the bottom half of the strip to wind back up around and around to cover the wound hair, tying the two ends of the fabric near my scalp. And I’d repeat with all the strips until my mullet was ready to shake out after a restless, uncomfortable sleep. But then there was a flurry of perms that swept across our classroom, and I went for it.
So yesterday Maeve was laying on the lounge room floor showing me how she can write some of the letters of the alphabet. And I looked on her shoulder and saw this:
I hope that spirals are all the rage when she gets to Year 8. And if they’re not, she can have any one of the straighteners in our bathroom drawer (and avoid swimming).