Permanent Trauma

When I was nine, my friend Jessica got a perm. Jessica had fine, thin hair. After her perm, her hair flowed with a soft wavy texture and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. So beautiful, in fact, that I wanted my hair to be exactly the same.

I begged my parents to pay for a perm, and they finally relented. They whisked me off to the Lynnwood Beauty School in our copper 1977 Honda Civic. I couldn't wait to look just like Jessica.

The process was smelly and boring, but even at the wee age of nine, I knew that to look great, you had the pay the price. So, I tried to be patient and answer the stylist's questions about what grade I was in and how did I like school...all the stupid things adults ask kids.

After the perm solution was rinsed, I knew that my time had come. I was going to have the coolest hairstyle ever!

Sadly, that was not to be. My hair is very thick and heavy...so, yeah, you guessed it. I had a white girl 'fro. I looked like...gasp....Little Orphan Annie! It was horrendous. I cried for days. I remember peeking out from under an orange afghan that my Grandma had made and wishing I could hide there forever.

Eventually, however, the 'fro faded like a puncture wound scar and I was able to leave my house again.

So, while it's good to experiment with your hair, remember that the moral of the story is NEVER, under any circumstances, should you ever, ever, ever, get a perm. It will always end in tears.