Hair's My Secret

I’ll let you in on a little secret.


I totally drop my guard if you brush my hair. Hair brush optional.

It all started when I was a little girl. Forget tea parties. I preferred playing beauty shop.


I was a bald baby and Mother says that when I finally got enough hair for her to gather up into a swirl for a little bow, my big brother cut it off!


Well I’m a big girl now and I still like to play beauty shop. Of course I always want to be the customer.


While in college, my roommate, Angie, fixed my hair for my dates and for special occasions. Heaven ~ I was in Heaven. Angie had a way with hot rollers and a rat-tail comb. And I did forgive her for giving me the high hair that one time. That North Carolinian, whose mama went weekly to have her own hair washed, combed and set, could backcomb with the best of 'em. (Whoever 'em are.)


College Hair ~ Angie's "work"

 I remember the first time I met Angie’s mother. She drove from Henderson, NC, to Cleveland, TN, and the first words I ever heard out of Mrs. Duke's mouth were as southern as sorghum on a biscuit, “I declayah, that cahr ride ruined mah hayah.”

And I don’t even care if you make my hair look good, just do something to it and I am under your spell all yours.


If my husband plays with my hair, I’ll even watch a football game with him. The other night I scooted closer to him and said, “Just do anything to my hair.”


And then I “discussed” the football game with him. I even guessed who was playing by the color of their uniforms ~ The Steelers.


Sure, I may have called them The Philadelphia Steelers but props to me for coming so close.


When we took our road trip a few weeks ago, we stayed with friends. The first night there I was admiring their oldest daughter’s beautiful hair. And then she made me her  customer friend for life when she casually asked if I wanted her to fix my hair.


My daughter caught the gleam in my eye and smirked. Then she answered for me.
“She’s always trying to get one of us to play beauty shop.


She brushed; she smoothed; she curled.


She asked questions.


I answered questions.


We laughed.


I may have shed a tear.


We bonded over the barrel of a curling iron.


Beauty shop puts me in such a relaxed state that I have to be careful not to make promises I may or may not be able to keep.


Last night in a “hair brushing stupor” I raised hopes for a biscuit and sausage gravy breakfast for this morning.




Oops. (We were out of sausage.)

Avery & Me (I even try to recruit him for "beauty shop.")
He'll do a lot for a sausage and gravy biscuit breakfast.
I owe him.