The Perm

When I was 12, I so desperately wanted a perm. I wanted big, soft, Brooke Shields curls to go with my Dr. Pepper lip gloss. My older sister and I spent many an evening rolling our hair up into foam and plastic pink curlers with green Dippity-do setting gel, but I never really achieved the look I wanted. I needed something more…permanent.

Our family went to Snips at the shopping center behind our housing development to get our hair cut. I had $20 from babysitting burning a hole in my pocket, so off I went to Snips, telling my parents I was going to get a hair cut.

I walked right up to the receptionist and declared that I would like a perm. She asked if I had an appointment. Uh, no. She furrowed her eyebrows and whispered to the hair stylist who usually cut my hair. She walked over and winked at me and whispered, “Okay, this is a sneak perm.” I guess they weren’t supposed to give perms on the fly. She was nice, but it was uncomfortable being a covert client.

About two hours later, I had wavy hair. I still didn’t resemble Brooke Shields, but I had curls! Permanent curls! I walked confidently to the register to pay my bill. “That’ll be $60.” Excuse me? But I had only a twenty in my pocket. “Um, could I use your phone, please?”

My parents were not happy and referred to my hair-do as “the 60 dollar perm” for a while. I did learn a valuable lesson, though: make an appointment and check the price ahead of time.