This morning I awoke to find my hair had done itself overnight. I pinned in a little barrette and was set for the day. (A new definition of, "Set it and forget it.") The exciting, time-saving miracle? Curl Keeper.
I have many memories, few fond, of growing up with curly, thick hair. One of my earliest is of feeling/watching my mom blow-dry it straight, then re-curl it (still not sure why this happened). Another is the time Mom wasn't able to brush it one morning, so Dad offered instead. Despite his best efforts I howled like a banshee. I still remember the tugging and feeling like my head was going to rip in two. Grandma, on the other hand, opted for another strategy entirely. She chose to braid it in two plaits, yanking and stretching my scalp so that I probably looked like I was born on another continent. We have Easter pictures of me in perfect Nellie Oleson curls (not my natural ones), cute braids, and one very unfortunate year when it looked like a brown bush exploded around my ears. (I really do think the sides of that bush prevented me from walking straight through a door.) Yes sirree, my hair has been a curse.
A curse that everybody else seemed to be jealous of. If I donated a curl to every person who asked for one I'd be balder than Daddy Warbucks. My mom, who has pin-straight blonde hair, wants my hair and there are lots of days that I want hers. It's impossible to get a good haircut (one that doesn't look uneven once it's washed and redried), hair products just leave it looking wet or weighed down, and it takes 2 days to dry if I don't blow-dry it, which causes the aforementioned explosion.
I mastered the twist-and-pin technique around the age of 15 and ever since, it's been the hairstyle of choice. It takes less than 3 minutes, usually looks great, and keeps it out of the face. But I've always wished to be able to wear it down and enjoy curls without fear of humidity, the slightest wind, or a poorly-aimed sneeze. In North Carolina the humidity only exacerbated the problem. (See VWH--I used that word correctly. In my head I pronounced it the right way too.) My frustration grew when I looked around during an orchestra rehearsal (flutists, contrary to popular opinion, do tacet) and saw a lovely gal with perfect curly hair. Instead of starting flat against her scalp and then ballooning out into frizz-city, she had gorgeous bouncy curls that framed her face instead of making her look like a big isosceles triangle. And, even better, her hair was short! Miracle of miracles!
I envied her hair for weeks, eventually catching her eye a few times. Thankfully she interpreted those looks as "can you believe what the conductor just did?" or "14.37 minutes left before freedom" and we struck up a non-verbal friendship. I sensed the kindred-spiritness even though we never uttered a word to each other. This went on for a couple of months and eventually she sent me an email asking a question for a class I was TA-ing. She identified herself as "the other curly-haired girl" and I knew the subject was safe to broach. She launched into a bubbly soliloquy about the wonder of this hair product and "I knew you woud love it from the moment I saw you." (Ouch?)
A few weeks later the sample bottle arrived. I followed her carefully-outlined instructions (wash, put in, go to bed) and, voile, perfect curls! And, catch-me-now-lest-I-faint, they actually last for more than a few hours. More like a few days! This miracle is a little teensy bit expensive, but I have quickly learned how to make a bottle last way longer than anything else I've used on my hair. Justificaton is very important in winning over the VWH.
Now I've passed my secret on to others and will continue to proclaim it from the mountaintops. You, too, can have a bit of say in what happens with your hair from day to day. There is hope.
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