My mother decided one day to take my younger sisters and me to a salon to get our hair cut. I'm not sure why but it may have been that she was tired of combing three heads of long hair and braiding or otherwise styling those three heads for school and church. So one summer day we set off on the local bus for the big city.
The salon wasn't exactly downtown but it was clean and probably inexpensive, and it was on the busline. All three of us had hair below our shoulder blades which had never been cut except for trims by our mother. We couldn't wait to have our long braids cut off. Sometime during the process, the hair stylist talked my mother into having our hair permed. Whatever she did was alright with us. We were happy enough just being there and having someone besides our mother wash and style our hair.
When it was all over, we admired the beautiful new hairdos. I'm sure they looked delightful in the salon, but after the days went by, they changed into strange-looking hair mops. By the time school started, I'm sure my mother wished she had never had it done. Our school pictures show us with hair styles that clearly reflect the attempt my mother made to make us look presentable. We all laugh about those hairstyles now, but at the time we knew we were both beautiful and stylish.
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