That 80's Hair

I came of age in the 80's - the time of BIG HAIR.

Given a blow dryer, a can of hair spray, and hot rollers, I can make this hair into a big ole puff ball in about 20 minutes.

Of course, this is 2014, and big hair is no longer in style.  Much to my eternal joy, straight hair is in style, and people with curly hair spend hours and significant amounts of time attempting to flat iron or blow dry their hair into that horrifying look that I achieve every time the weather is hot, humid, sticky, or several hours have gone by.

My very thick, very fine hair lies flat, flat, flat against my head.  Most mornings, I run a curling iron through my hair in order to give it some life and body.  The curl doesn't stay, but there's still a little lift and bounce in my hair, so that it doesn't conform to my head quite so evenly.

About a month ago, I hit my forehead with the curling iron and gave myself a pretty decent burn.  As luck would have it, I've been hitting it with the curling iron every so many days since then- usually when I'm in a very big hurry.

Yesterday, when I was getting my haircut, I mentioned this to my stylist after she asked about the scab on my hairline.

"You know," she said, "Your hair tends not to style well with the blow dryer.  Maybe it would be a good idea to go back to hot rollers.  You wouldn't burn yourself as much, and you'd gain a little time, because you could finish getting ready for your day while the rollers are doing all the work."

So, this morning, I ran my hair up in hot rollers.

You know, I had forgotten one teensy little detail.  Coloring your hair damages the hair itself.  It damages it just enough that it makes it easier to style.  My straight hair is just as stubborn as I am.  It resists styling like nothing you've ever seen before. 

Imagine my surprise when I unrolled my hair this morning and found that I had genuine 80's style big curls in my hair.

I attempted to brush it out, and it bushed up.  WAY up.  Imagine Marge Simpson, but not quite that high.  I tried to push it down, but every time I pushed it down, it just went "spriong' and popped right back up again.  Not even my bangs would sit down on my head.

I headed out to go run errands this morning.  I noticed the teller at the bank eyeing my hair and attempting not to say anything.  "It's okay" I told her.  "I had a run in with a hot roller this morning.  I lost."

I went past a water fountain at the library and used my fool proof "oops" fixer.  Wet hands, shake most of the water off, and run through my hair.  I went into the bathroom to look at the end result.
Ummm.. the part that was wetter was flatter, but the parts that were drier had more spring.  By the time I got out to the car and checked my hair in the mirror, the parts that had been wet were now standing straight up on end.

I ran into a friend at the grocery store who just couldn't help herself.  "I swear, I couldn't get my hair to look like that back in the 80's.  How did you do that?  How many cans of hair spray did you use?"

I hated to admit it, but I had to.  It was an ill advised appointment with the hot rollers.  No hair spray.  I haven't bought spray or mousse in about 5 years. 

Giving a little "tsk", she whipped a scarf out of her purse, and tied my hair down for me, making it look like a headband.  I'm not sure what I look like now, but my hair isn't as poufy as it was before. 

I think today might have been my last appointment with the hot rollers for a while.

The Magician

I was working with one of my little friends this week.  We were sitting on the floor, working on a puzzle when he suddenly looked up at my head and proclaimed:

"Whoa.... look at your hair.  You've got so much gray hair in there, I think you've got more hair than my Babushka!

"That's a lot of gray," I said.

"You must be almost as old as my Babushka,"  he said.  "She's got lots and lots of gray hair too!"

"I don't think I'm as old as your Babushka, but if I'm lucky, maybe I will live to be as old as your Babushka."

He got up, and began picking up my hair and saying "wow, look at all this gray". 

True, it had been six weeks since I had colored my hair.  I had an appointment the very next day to get it colored.  I wasn't scheduled to be back in his school until the end of the week, so I decided to be a little playful...

"You know what?  I'm going to see a magician tomorrow.  She's going to wave her magic wand at me and make my hair turn brown again." 

"Hmmm... "  he replied.  "I don't know if any magician will be able to do anything about that!"


When I showed back up at the school on Friday, he stopped me dead in my tracks as I was walking down the hall with my class.  He pulled my arm down, and started looking in my hair, picking it up randomly and scrutinizing the hair underneath.  My class watched in silence, stupefied at what they were seeing.

"Whoa... That was one powerful magician you saw!!!  There isn't any gray left in there at all!!"

I love my powerful magician!  She has the power to make a graying head brown again, and give me a haircut that makes me feel good about how I look for six weeks.