Growing up with two sisters meant that I had to do my share of girly stuff growing up. And I actually didn’t mind playing with them or their toys, I just didn’t have that instinctual ability to play with them the way a third sister would have done. I tried my best, but I just wasn’t built, in one example, to sit down to have tea, without a rampaging monster going through the tea party and mauling the one of the cabbage patch kids and having imaginary lasers shoot out of its eyes that would blast said cabbage patch doll straight across the the other side of the room. PEW – KRPSH – BOOM!
But this story isn’t about me blasting through a tea party with my favourite dinosaur.
I must have been about 5 which would have made my older sister 7 and my younger sister 3. It was a rainy day so we were stuck inside, and my mom and dad were out on some grown up expedition and we were being watched by the grandparents. They must’ve been asleep or something while the rest of this story was transpiring because I don’t remember them being involved any where else in the story.
My older sister had the brilliant idea to make our younger sister look pretty for when our parents came home. And her being 3 we could pretty much do what we wanted to her and she thought it was all fun and games.
I was in charge of hair.
And since this was the early 80’s, BIG hair, actually PERMED BIG HAIR was, well big.
But alas in my youthful innocence I did not know that permed big hair involved about 36 cans of hairspray and some other things even to this day I have no clue about (no really, I have no clue how people actually get a perm [WHY they would get a perm is another question altogether], are there chemicals involved?? Does lightning or some sort of electrical discharge get used in the process?? Does a cat need to be rubbed on a perspex pole??). I thought that if you just used one of those round brushes (see pic below if I’m losing you with that description) and twisted the hair all over it, you would get curly hair. Right? It makes sense!
Now my younger sister at the age of 3 I don’t think had ever had a haircut. My mother adored her hair. So even at 3 she had quite long hair, and there I was brushing and trying to curl it for all I was worth. It was not working. I brought this to the attention of my older sibling, who said maybe it was because I didn’t know what I was doing and maybe she should also be in charge of hair. I was of course outraged by this slanderous accusation regarding my hair sculpting abilities and proceeded to think about the problem in my 5 year old super genius way.
Well I thought, maybe I’m just not leaving it all curled up in this brush long enough AND maybe it’s because I’m not using enough hair AND maybe because her hair is dry AND maybe because we’re not using a hair dryer!
So I trotted down to the bathroom to get some water and promptly splashed my sisters hair with it. Being the adorable 3 year old she was, she just looked at me and laughed. Then I took a massive chunk of her hair and wrapped it around the brush as much as I could as tight as I could. And since I knew I wasn’t allowed to touch the hair dryer (see us kids were smarter back then!), I plonked her in front of the electric fan, it was air right? And it was blowing air, that’s what hair dryers did!
I managed to convince my older sister of my utter genius and we let the brush sit in her hair as we tackled the rest of the ensemble for a couple of hours. What the actual rest of what we did to her was I cannot remember, and I don’t think anyone else remembers, so lets say it was a princess dress.
A couple of hours pass (and when I mean a couple of hours this is “kid time”… hell this might have all happened in the space of 10 minutes, but it seemed to take an entire afternoon)… Now that we had her dressed in her princess dress, it was time to check on the magnificent hair creation I had made.
I tugged at the brush.
It seemed to be stuck.
I tugged it some more.
It was really stuck.
I pulled as hard as I could.
It was this time my younger sister began to sense that something was wrong as I was trying to decapitate her solely by pulling her hair, so she started the long road to all out crying, Armageddon Zombie Apocalypse style crying.
Me and my sister quickly hushed her, well because half her hair was stuck in a brush and we did not want any grown up walking in on this situation. Not until we had it under control again. While it was MY fault that the hair was in that situation, it was HER idea, so for now, we were partners in crime.
As we quieted the little tyke down, we both attempted to unlodge the terrifying evidence of
our my creation. I think our attempts just made the situation worse. It was embedded in her hair like the sword in the stone, and neither of us were the true king of England. My little sister is close to hysterics at this point because she knew from our behaviour something had gone drastically wrong, she wasn’t quite too sure what it was, but she knew it was BIG. Like crossing the road without holding an adults hand “big”. She wasn’t crying but she was at that stage that if we didn’t get whatever that was wrong fixed and fixed it now, she would blow up and bring the wrath of the grown up on us.
And it was this, in our darkest hour, that I hatched my cunning plan…
And also I surmised that I must’ve been been blessed with unbelievable smartness and foresight whilst doing the curling because I had chosen a portion of hair at the back of her head! Okay, sure, about a 1/3 of her hair was rolled up in that brush but who looks at the back of peoples heads?? Pfft! No one! That’s right!
My older sibling decides that this is the time to wash her hands of the entire affair. She tries to convince me that we should just wait for our parents to come home and take the inevitable telling off that we richly deserved.
But I was drunk on my own magnificent intellectual prowess and problem solving skills, and declined her offer of the both of us confessing (thereby maybe getting a reduction in sentence was her way of thinking). Why confess, when with a simple snip of scissors no one would be the wiser
our my little fashion faux pas? This was when she walked out of the play room and played with her dolls in the living room, distancing herself away from the crime scene.
Fine I thought, being the super genius that I am, I can do this without her. Then I will mock her with great vengeance and furious anger about her confession to the grown up, when I got away scott-free! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!
And if this were a fairy tale, you would have my mom and dad, coming in just as I’m about to cut my sisters hair and stop me before I could do much damage.
This is not a fairy tale.
I cut it.
And chaos ruled the realm.
I won’t bore you about the punishments I received or the vivid description that is emblazoned in my memory of my mothers face when I held up the Pringles can where I had stored my sisters ravaged locks, after they had wheedled a confession out of me. Or why I decided to store the evidence of my misdoings in a Pringles can of all places. Suffice to say I was in trouble in the worst possible way.
A full third of her hair was gone. But honestly from MY memory, it really didn;t look all that much was missing (or even looked that bad), but from the accounts of my parents, they make it seem like I gave her this hairdo…
Which seems to be gaining in popularity with the kids out there now in 2011-2012…
Sooooooooo, reeeaaallllllllly… I was a hair stylist savant! A genius ahead of his time. 😀