Last night, Clarabelle asked me to put curlers in her hair. It's a lost art, that. I remember my Mom setting (and teasing) her hair to get ready for church every week. I have many school photos that bear evidence of the use of curlers. (And, might I ask modestly, wasn't I a cutie? ;)
When I was in junior high and high school, the glorious late 80s, we used the perm, curling iron, blow dryers and hairspray to achieve monumental proportions. I wonder if our ways of grooming seemed strange to my Mom, though she was no stranger to hairspray, about a half a can of AquaNet was required for her beautiful bouffant.
Nowadays (and yes, I hear the old timer in me speaking here), girls go au naturel, growing their bangs out and letting their hair be as it is. I follow suit, and I like it a lot better than standing in front of mirror for a half hour beating thick, coarse hair into submission.
But it was fun connecting to the generations that have gone before, and trussing Clara up with rollers before bed last night. The results this morning were pretty adorable too. Her siblings remarked, 'You look like Shirley Temple.' I say even cuter. Don't you agree, dear reader?