I am joining Ann Dee Ellis and other writers in using a prompt to record memoir moments. If you don't write your story, who will?
Ninth grade graduation was the first time to go to the beauty salon. My mom always cut her own hair and so I made the appointment by myself. I wanted an up do with cascading ringlets down the back. As I left the salon I looked strange in jeans and the poofy hair. It made me look mature, like a woman, not a fifteen year old.
Hair was problematic for me in the later 60's. We all wanted hair like Cher, of Sonny and Cher, long, straight and no curl. My long hair had wave so I slept on horrible curlers to get the right look. Juice cans were just the right width. Pop the lid out of the end and wash them, of course, and instant curlers. However, there was a price to pay. No comfort allowed in the pursuit of fashion,
The dress was an original Marta, my mother, and she used the prettiest lace on the sleeves. What would I say to this sweet fifteen year old. Don't listen to the social rules concerning your body. You are just right the way you are. And please, comfort is paramount in the years ahead.