In some ways we want to be like our mothers. In other ways we learn what not to do. Early on I resolved not to be a slave to my hair or a hairdresser.
In a previous post I mentioned fussing with hair seemed to be in women’s DNA, beginning as preteens. After college I stopped adding a beer rinse for extra volume; stopped doing my own hair. As a working educator with a paycheck, I had my hair done once a week (just like my mother did).
However, once living in NY for graduate school and subsequent counseling positions, I found regular hair appointments disruptive and the upkeep too time-consuming. (And every time I went west to visit my parents, mother was still fussing with her hair before going out....
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