by Cathy
Last week was picture day at school, (also known as the psycho-drama-meltdown-running late morning at my house). I have two girls and because I have learned some hard lessons about preparation in past years, this year, I was determined to nip that madness in the bud.
The night before, I made sure their uniforms were washed, pressed and spot-free. Then I actually sat with each one of them to discuss...their hair. Yes, we had hair consultations for school picture day. Ari's was easy: braided pigtails. Neat, clean, great! I made her choose which twisty ties she wanted to use and had her keep those on her nightstand until morning so as not to get lost in the toy and knick-knack rubbles that have formed various piles throughout her room.
From Bella, I got a special request.
"Mom, can I get my hair straightened for picture day?"
"Why do you want to do that? You have such beautiful, wavy hair!"
"I just want it to look...different," she replied, her eyes pleading.
I looked over her thick mane and replied, "Okay Bella but we either do it now or you have to wake up earlier tomorrow so we have time and we're not rushed. Okay?"
Her posture deflated a smidge. "Oh, but I'm so tired now. I'll wake up early to do it tomorrow morning, I promise. Like, what time do I have to be up, around six?"
If my sleepyhead of a daughter proposed such a far-fetched time, I knew she was excited about the prospect of straightening her hair. I also knew that there was no way in hayul she was getting up at the ass crack of dawn to even do this.
"No, it's not necessary to get up that early," I replied. "I'll get you up at seven sharp but you gotta get up."
"I will, I will!" she said excitedly.
As a young girl growing up with thick, curly, unruly, half-frizzy, half-crimped, bushy, unrelenting European hair, I could totally relate to my daughter's request in straightening it. Granted hers is much more manageable than mine, but oh, how I desperately wanted limp, lifeless, pin-straight, thin hair like the rest of my non-ethnic friends. Oh, how I desperately wanted feathered hair but all mine would do is just frizz out and mock me. How I feared rain and humidity like the grim reaper himself. How many times did I cry tears of frustration in front of my mirror as my hair did what it wanted, totally oblivious to the societal and adolescent pressures I faced. No one at that age strives to be different, but fortunately, with age comes wisdom and embracing what you have and soon, the rebellious, individualistic side of us emerges to set us free.
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| Where were flat-irons when I was a tween?!? |
The morning of picture day went as smooth as can be, despite the fact that Bella got up at 7:18 and rushed at the speed of light to get dressed so as not to miss her opportunity to sleek up her hair. She got to the bathroom in record time, where I was waiting with flat-iron in hand, buzzing and burning the air. She chatted excitedly about random things while I smoked her stubborn hair into smooth silky tresses. I could literally feel her mood shift with every straightened clump of hair I released onto her tiny shoulders. By the time I let the last strands lay against her cheek, she physically looked and emotionally felt like a brand new girl. Her face was glowing and there was an ear-to-ear grin on her face that worked its way up to her eyes and made them twinkle. Her chatter was lighter, happier, peppier. (If only I knew that all it took was a straight-iron to also work out the kinks in my daughter's personality, I'd have resorted to this many struggles ago.)
She left the house that morning, on time and spiffy, in about the best mood ever. I couldn't help but think about how for us women, a great outfit or a perfect hair day can literally boost our confidence, our mood, or even our outlook on life, and how even though we never think about it, it can work the same magic for our growing girls, trying to find their place in the spaces between children and teenagers. That is the power of a good hair day - never underestimate it, no matter how shallow it may sound. And I am thankful that my daughters can experience this at a time in their lives when they need it most.
