Just Say No. Do it for the Kids.


My friend Courtney owns a kid's hair salon in coastal North Carolina.  The other day she asked for some Facebook contest ideas for her shop.  I told her she should do a bad hair contest.  You know -- pictures of kids with bed head or someone's prom pic from the 80's where an entire can and a half of Aquanet was on display.  I even went on to say that I had the perfect pic for such a contest because, in the early 90's, my parents hog-tied me to a chair at the beauty shop and stood back (probably laughing and high fiving each other) as the hair dresser gave me the Epically Bad Perm.

You can't tell your girlfriends you have a picture like that without, you know, backing it up.  So I had to share the picture.  And Court asked if she could use it as "an example" to kick off her contest.  Or course.  Let my pain and agony be your gain.  I'm SUCH a giving person, ya'll.

She kicked off her contest on Friday with this picture.  Wait.  Before I post it, three things:

1) It was the early 90's - the very early 90's
2) I was 10 or 11 and, therefore not responsible for my own hairstyle. 
3) I wore bright blue STIRRUP PANTS with that sweartshirt.

Sexy and I know it

After Courtney posted the pic to her shop's Facebook page I commented with something along the lines of, "Wow, I bet that chick is so hot now!"

You know what happens when you comment on a photo like that?

It shows up on the feed of EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS. 

Which meant, all the sudden, other people were commenting on the pic.  Including my mom.  Who wrote this:

She wanted the perm and was so proud of it! LOL

Obviously she and I have COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY different recollections of how this whole perm thing went down.  I'm pretty sure it was forced on me, probably as a punishment for the smart mouth I had already way past perfected.  She seems to think that I WANTED IT.  The horror.
Let's hypothetically say for a minute - just a minute here - that she is right.  (She's not, by the way.  My memory is younger and, therefore, I win in the "I remember it this way" contest).  Let's hypothetically say that I actually WANTED the perm.
This, folks, this is where parenting comes in to play.
You see, if my parents had been doing their job they would have sat me down and said something like this, "Look, Brandi, we know you really want a perm because, up to this point, we've been inflicting that awful mullet on you which really makes no sense because you're  not raking in big bucks by performing Achy Breaky Heart to millions of screaming women and, let's be real, Michelle Duggar is still more than a decade away from bringing the girly mullet to the TLC masses.  But, here's the thing, if you get that perm then people will laugh at you.  Not only that, but we will take pictures of you with that horrid haircut.  School pictures will be taken and that perm, oh honey, that perm will go down in infamy in the yearbook.  DON'T DO IT, BRANDI.  Don't do it because we'll be embarrassed to be seen with you and don't do it for the person you'll be in twenty years who never leaves home without her hair perfectly flat ironed."
See, people?  Parents?
Let my pain and agony be your gain.  Let this story remind you that it's okay to say "NO!" to your kids!
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