When I was young my favorite movie was Grease and my favorite character was Sandy. *I now know this movie is highly inappropriate. Nobody’s child should be singing about the “Chicks creaming” over a car. But luckily for me I heard it as “Chicks will DREEEAAAM!” in John Travolta’s voice….so I was good.
I was so excited to grow up and be Sandra Dee, that I told my mother that I wanted to cut my hair to look just like Sandy. Now here’s a little backstory about my hair, it was long, so long that I accidentally peed on it more than once. It was very dark, almost black and it was wavy with ringlets. When I say I wanted to look like Sandy, I meant cute blonde with bangs that could be worn up or down and maybe I can slut it up for the one song I sing with the leather pants. My mother finally agreed….and by agreed I mean got tired of my whining little ass behind her begging to get my haircut. She takes me to the salon….you know the one, in the mall that is sinking because they built it on a swamp… the mall that you referred to as “no not the good mall, the other one.” The salon has walk-ins only and the one that “Tammy with the perm and bright blue eyeshadow” works at. She had so many hickies that I thought that neck burns was a hazard of her job. There were the plastic chairs that farted when you sat in them. And sitting there waiting for them to call your name was like waiting on death row.
Tammy comes out with her permed hair and hicky neck and chewing gum and looks at my mom, “What are you looking for hun?” I look at Tammy and I am already not a fan of her demeanor because don’t ask my mom she doesn’t know, up until now she cut my hair with the kitchen shears.
“I want to look like Sandy!” I chimed in.
Tammy looks at me and says “Oh, is that a girl in your class?” *fucking Tammy!
“No!” I say and I look right at her and say “Sandra Dee! From Grease? Have you seen it?” She may have gone to the movie but unlike the respectable Sandy, Tammy let her boyfriend get to “Titty” base. I’m sorry I don’t know what the bases are. Im like first base they talk to me, second base I go out with them….I mean Titty grab is not until like thirty-nineth base and because I also don’t know baseball this plays out. (what’s that you say? My husband is one lucky guy? I’ll let him know that you think so, thanks!) But either way Tammy does not know who Sandy is and I am eight years old and I did not have the fortitude to abort mission.
“Oh, Yeah I’ve seen it!” Tammy lies. “What do you like about Sandy’s hair? What do you want in particular?” she asks *because she has not seen only the best fucking movie in my lifetime up until that point.
“I wan’t to be Sandy! I want to break out in song whenever I can’t contain my feelings. I want the boy to race his car for me. I want him to not look at Cha Cha DiGregorio and only have eyes for me. I want to eventually lose all moral codes and slut it up at the fair and sing some salacious song to some greased up pig of a man. You know but with bangs.”
Tammy begins cutting my hair and I am excited because with that one swoop I felt lighter. I look at the long strands of hair on the floor and I begin to panic because I now realize that Tammy hadn’t, probably watched the film. When she is finished cutting, I am wearing what I can only describe as a mushroom bowl cut, with bangs. My eyes well up and I am sitting trying to smile and pretend that I wasn’t disappointed. I mean I fucking asked for this…I mean I begged for this…I really had so much hope for this that I hadn’t realized that when she was finished I would still be a tiny kid with pale skin and dark circles around my eyes. I looked like the worst version of myself and what was even more tragic, I couldn’t wear it in a ponytail…which was basically Sandy’s whole fucking look….she is a Damned cheerleader for fuck’s sake. I looked like some character in Wario World that was going to make the hero grow. What the hell have I done?
Tammy looks super satisfied with herself and says “Should we go show mom?”
no! no, we should not ever show this to people. I know that I want to cry but I fucking begged my mother for this atrocity that I have got to wish grows out before school on Monday. I nod my little mushroom head and go to the row of farting plastic chairs and I try not to bust out into tears. I slap on a smile and I feel the lump in my throat that I won’t be able to talk around. I look at my mother and she smiles. She doesn’t look horrified, she buys that I love this new hair.
“Do you like it?” my mother asked
“mmhmm!” I say around the rather large lump in my throat. I am beginning to realize that without my long hair I’m just an ugly kid that is too small to both sit in a chair and have my feet touch the ground. *I am still too little to have my feet touch while sitting in a chair. But I have a much better hair dresser now. She’s magical. She is a hair wizard actually and she would have steered me away from this bowl mushroom.
“I bet it is lighter!” my mother encourages me to see the bright side.
“mmmhmmm!” I respond because I wasn’t look to lose heft….I have been blown off the doorstep with the door MORE THAN ONCE!
“Now we can see your face.” This! This was when I Lost MY SHIT! I cried, I mean eight year old, got a super bad hair cut, snot cried. I did not know how ugly my face was until I cut my hair to frame the fucking thing. Oh God, now people can see my fucking face. I would look at my upside down reflection in my spoon and be so utterly ashamed of my absolute ugliness. My face was the worst part about me. Don’t worry folks this haircut came two years before the back brace sooo, I didn’t know what was coming at me.
I got home and I cried and I tried barrettes. I tried pony tails. I tried headbands. I spent the next six months trying to hide my hideous hair. But don’t worry I logically got my “Sandy” haircut just before school pictures so there is actually photographic evidence of this poor judgement. I have never asked to look like another person again. I learned the disappointing fact that a haircut is not going to change my whole look. I had many haircuts since, and some I will say were not perfect. But my mushroom bowl cut was my absolute worst hair. AND I one time only permed the front of my hair…and it was hideous. I also learned that my hair was my best feature and I would cherish it.
Moral of my story: Tammy with the perm and the bright blue eye shadow and hickied neck did not know who Sandy from Grease was. Instead of looking like Sandra Dee I looked like the beauty school drop out! Oh my God guys, Tammy thought I wanted to Frenchy….that was the fucking hair. I just realized that now. Fucking Tammy.
Okay better moral to my story: Be happy with who you are. Love yourself and really see that you are more than just good hair, or beauty, or make-up. You are a beating heart and a loving soul and isn’t that what is important? I mean do it with good hair, but isn’t that what’s important?
Until next time 🙂