The grass is ALWAYS greener on the other side of the hairdressers |
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The grass is ALWAYS greener on the other side of the hairdressers

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When I was in my final year of high school, I got a perm. I guess you could be forgiven for thinking I went to school in the eighties—or maybe even the early nineties. Unfortunately, NO. It was 2001 and perms were definitely NOT in fashion. Perhaps, I can claim to have been fashion forward. Maybe I was channeling a bit of Sarah Jessica Parker from Sex and the City. Alas, this would be a LIE.

Sentimental Sunday_PermMy dancing was probably about as good as SJP’s though.

When I walked into the hairdresser, I actually wanted enormous barrel curls. I was SO fixated on turning my dead-straight hair into the kind of hair you would wear on a red carpet that I admit I shrugged off the warnings that the curls would be of the corkscrew variety (if you read enough of these posts you’ll start to realize that once I get an idea into my head…). I also ignored the warnings that curly hair takes a LOT of maintenance (hats off to all the curly-haired gals out there!).

I should have jumped into the shower as soon as I got home to deactivate whatever chemical activates the perm, but I was determined that the five hours and hundreds of dollars I’d spent WOULD pay off. I remember checking my reflection every few minutes, as if the curls were going to transform themselves. Of course, they were still tight the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.

I pretty much started growing out my perm immediately. It took a good ten months or so. In the meantime, I tied it back every single day (after loading it up with product to keep it from looking like dreadlocks). I also dyed it red (which ended up pink), after being inspired by Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge. And then brown, which made me look like I should have been in Twilight—even fashion backward me could see it was NOT my colour.

Sentimental Sunday_Perm2Um. You have a little something on your face. No, other side.

Just before my graduation, I had the perm cut out. It was both therapeutic and a bit of a blow for someone who’s had long hair since I was little (my mum likes to tell stories about my obsession with brushing my hair as a kid). As one friend told me, I looked like Princess Diana—and not in a good way. Thankfully, my hair grows thick and fast and before long (perhaps another six months), it was past my shoulders.

Now, I have dead-straight hair again—bottle blonde these days—but I still love curls (like I said, once I get fixated on something…). And when I got married two years ago, I FINALLY got my barrel curls. They were big. They were bouncy. And, unlike my first attempt, they were TEMPORARY.

On Sundays, I let myself get all dewy-eyed, particularly about my teen years, which weren’t that long ago, thank you very much! Join me for a wander down memory lane and read all of my sentimental posts here. Just watch out for the puddles caused by my tears of angst.

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