Curls

This is my first grade school picture. Do you like my hair? How about those bows? Bet they matched the color of my dress. Like the curls? I hated every twist of those curls.
They aren't natural, you know. My hair is thick and straight as a board. So how come I have curls and ribbons???
One word - Mother.
Turning my flat hair into something curly took a lot of effort. And pain (for both of us!)
First she had to wash my hair. I hated having my hair washed. I was too big to lie down on the drainboard of the kitchen sink so I had to stand on a chair and hang my head down in the sink.
She scrubbed and rinsed it twice and the soap got in my eyes and stung.
Then she rubbed it with a towel until it was almost dry.
Then she combed it. I hated having my hair combed. It pulled and pinched. By this time I was miserable and complaining and whining and crying and she was mad.
Things just got worse.
To make my hair curl, she combed out a little bit and rolled it up on a stiff bristly metal roller.
All over my head my hair was pulled tight into these hard metal rollers.
I had to sleep with those rollers still on my head! How did I do that? It makes my head hurt just to think about it.
Sometimes she tried to give me a "home permanent". I had to sit in the kitchen on the red step stool while she put an awful smelling concoction on my hair (in rollers). And sit there until it was dry! There were NO blow-dryers then!

Thank goodness we only washed my hair about once a week.

In the morning Mother would carefully unroll the curlers - but some of my hair always caught on the bristles and pulled. She would comb through my hair and pull it back off my face and tie the sides with ribbons.
She always said I had a beautiful brow and she tried to keep my hair off my face so it would show. I thought I'd rather just be beautiful and forget about the hair.

Wait 'til you see what I looked like in second grade. (Hint-- not beautiful!)