Thank You Though I Forgot Your Name

It was 1978 and I was a young bride, only 20, my husband and I married on July 8th of that year (and still together 31 years later). I made many mistakes that first difficult year, no longer under the protective "roof" of parental counsel. It took me many years to even admit that which would of dissuaded me from making that hair salon appointment that changed my life for the next six months. My mother would of brought to my remembrance the countless short haircuts that left me crying in my room for days and dad, well he would tell me to leave well enough alone with perfection (I loved my dad!). 1

What ever possessed me, Mrs. Curly Frizz herself, to get a body wave I'll never know. Blame it on the shock of married life when I had yet to get the adult thing down pat or just a plain dumb mistake, it was a nightmare on Andrew Ave all the same. Andrew Ave. is where I lived at the time of my great blunder, where my husband thought he walked into Jimmy Plant's home of Led Zepplin instead of our own (as he nicknamed me). I won't tell you what he nicknamed my hairdresser (only I know for sure), lets just call her Fredrica Kruger. 2

Needless to point out, the only wave I wanted after that was the farewell one when you go somewhere, like across the country until the hair begins to grow down instead of out eight inches from your head. 3

It was a Saturday when "it" happened and I remember dreading the office entrance I would have to make on Monday that entire long weekend. I knew it would mean a hundred eyes staring at me in both pity and shock and that I would be the topic of lunch that day and snickers in the mail room. 4

I was not prepared for the silence. Coworkers I thought would at least say (like others that first awful day) "Oh my gosh, what happened to you?", just looked at me then quickly looked away or down at the carpet. Sweat poured from my chemical encrusted pores that entire first day. On the way home from work I felt a slight relief that the hard part was over until suddenly the dread came upon me in an even greater flood. 5

My family. I almost forgot. I had to face brothers who were not yet finished teasing their sister though she was a married women not to mention friends, acquaintances, nieces and nephews, aunts, uncles. Who was I kidding, my life was going to be hell as the poster child for Bad Hair victims of the 70's! 6

I have to say the whole experience though it certainly humbled me, gave me a glimpse into human nature, my own and those around me. To give you an example, I worked with a young women about the same age as me. She was popular in the office, very pretty with gorgeous hair and very sweet. She was the only one that came to my desk that day and actually said with all sincerity as far as I could tell, "I love your hair, you look beautiful". 7

I later found out she was once an overweight teenager with short hair who longed for friends but had just a few. 8

Thank you.....I forgot your name, but thank you for those words that horrible day. In fact I was reminded of them not too long ago when the shoe was on another foot or should I say the perm on another head. I would like to think it was streaching the truth but I guess it was a lie when I told a friend her hair looked beautiful. She was crying in front of a mirror and though all she saw was frizzy curls sticking out of her head, what I said was meant for her soul. I avoided the cliches "your hair will grow back" and "don't worry you'll get used to it" seeing her truly as a gorgeous wildflower in a garden of plain old daffodils. More importantly, I was reminded of my own deep scars left by sharp words through my life and they reminded me and always will, to tell the other wildflowers just how beautiful they are! 9