Fixing Vandercar - Season 1 ~ Episode 1 (con't)

Like all reality shows, this is the segment where the dramatic music is cued and the subject talks really low and stifles the urge to cry while telling a secret or a story from their past.

And Fixing Vandercar wouldn't be a reality show without our very own whispered segment.

Here's the back story, minus the tears, cause I've already figured out how it relates to my fears and hopefully have put them to rest. Having said that, however, has not taken away my hesitancy to trust people with implements in their hands when they are near my head.

Many of you know that I was a late comer to the Vandercar family. I can imagine that I cramped my teenage siblings plans once or a thousand times on a friday night when they wanted to go out, but had to babysit their baby sister instead. I also imagine that I was somewhat sort of a baby doll come to life.

As I grew up I remember wanting to be wherever my brothers and sisters were and remember getting to go with them...not realizing that I was probably called a tag-a-long.

I remember going with Sister Susie and her friends to Tony's Drive INN and how I thought Brenda and Marilyn and Susie were so grown up, hip and pretty. As I remember, Brenda was planning on becoming a beautician and all I remember is one day they got it in their heads that they were gonna "set" my hair. There were rollers and a dryer involved and the whole beauty shop process and when they finished I looked like a tiny person with very BIG hair. (think bouffant). Now, many of you know that by this time in my young life, I was probably more comfortable in a Cubs hat and no shoes or shirt than a fru fru hairstyle.

So the big girl curls freaked me out.

I did NOT know what the term "SET" meant when it came to hair-doos and I had KNOW idea that when I washed my hair, the curls would disappear.
So, you can imagine me...when I finally got alone and went to bed that night, I laid my head on the pillow and instead of wearing the hairnet that keeps the hair doo tidy, I pressed my head into the pillow as hard as I could and spent the better part of the night...pressing my hair down to my head with my arms and hands. I put my head under the pillow, on top of the pillow, anything to flatten my hair back to the dutch boy cut that I was used to. Of course, I'm sure the next day I looked like a wreck. I don't remember the relief that came from washing it and it returning to normal, I only remember the anxiety that came from being torn between wanting to be with my sister and her friends and the fear that they would keep using my head for hair practice!

So there. That is the story of my early hair care. And why I might flinch if you innocently try to straighten a stray hair on my head.

See no crying.
Well, at least not yet.