I was born with fine, straight black hair. From a young age, I found myself envious of the girls with curls; all I longed for were the tightest, most vibrant ringlets. You remember the character of Lucy from that classic book series—how she idolized the curly-haired girl in her class? She would tug on those curls just to see them spring back. My best friend in elementary school had stunning curly blonde hair, and I was equally captivated by it. Thankfully, being friends allowed me to enjoy her curls without any reproach. (Ironically, she later confessed that she would have traded her curls for my sleek hair without hesitation.)
In my eyes, curly hair was the epitome of beauty, and the ’80s culture reinforced that belief. Celebrities flaunted voluminous, extravagant hairstyles—big was truly better. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how outrageous some of those ’80s styles were, but at the time, I was desperate for Madonna’s teased perm and Sarah Jessica Parker’s spiral curls. Even male celebrities were hopping on the perm bandwagon; who could forget Jon Bon Jovi’s infamous perm? It seemed like the heavy metal scene was full of similar looks.
After what felt like endless pleading, I finally convinced my mother to let me get a perm. I was 11, the epitome of a relentless pre-teen. I still can’t fathom why she agreed—I certainly wouldn’t allow my own child to undertake such a decision. But it was the ’80s, and perms were all the rage. My argument was that she had enjoyed a few perms in her day, so why should I have to wait?
We visited a beauty salon in the mall, where I painfully endured having my hair wound tightly into rollers. There was a strange thrill in sitting beneath one of those salon dryers while my hair processed. However, the most memorable aspect was the overwhelming odor of the chemicals—an unmistakable scent reminiscent of rotten eggs.
The stylist instructed me not to wash my hair for several days afterward. The lingering smell was so strong that I often found myself holding my breath. Nevertheless, my hair looked fantastic. I could run my fingers through it and enjoy the satisfying “boing” of my curls. At last, I had the hair of my dreams—perfect corkscrew spirals.
But that bliss was short-lived. The moment I washed my hair, those beautifully defined curls vanished. Within days, I transformed into a girl resembling someone who had just encountered an electrical outlet: no shape, just frizz.
One would assume I received proper guidance on maintaining my perm. Perhaps we left the salon with some recommended mousse or gel. However, my mother’s advice was simply, “Just put it in a ponytail.”
Regardless of the circumstances, I endured an embarrassing six months of unruly, voluminous hair until it began to grow out. I fit right in with my fellow ’80s girls, all of us sporting our big, frizzy hairstyles.
Ultimately, I learned a valuable lesson—perhaps that was my mother’s intention all along. As my straight hair began to return, I found an appreciation for my uncomplicated, easy-to-manage locks like never before. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side—or curlier.
For more insights on parenting and fertility, check out our article on fertility supplements at Make a Mom. Also, if you’re interested in at-home options, visit Make a Mom for premium kits. For a deeper understanding of infertility treatments, Healthline offers excellent resources.
Summary
This reflection on the trials of an ’80s perm highlights the desire for what one does not have, ultimately leading to a greater appreciation for one’s natural hair. Through humorous anecdotes, we see how societal trends can influence personal choices and the importance of embracing our natural selves.
SEO metadata:
Keyphrase: ’80s perm mishap
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]