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| Another (and an older) curly-haired alien version of me. (My mom really got into perming my hair after the first try) |
“Come closer,” she beckoned me, her perky voice failing to conceal a slight edge, her big bright smile not reaching her eyes. Warning bells sounded off in my head but I could not say no, nor run away. I was rooted in my spot, paralyzed.
“Oh come on,” she said soothingly. I looked at my neighbor Ilana, she with the green eyes and the beautiful thick, wavy blond hair that I envied. She nodded at me and smiled, reassuring me. I looked at my cousin Leah, who nodded as well. As their blond and black heads bobbed in unison, I felt comforted. They both had their turns and they were all right. I bravely took a few steps forward until I was face to face with my summoner, Arlene. Alternately revered and reviled by the children in our neighborhood, the proclaimed bully of the block was not wearing her trademark scowl today, nor were her dark eyes their usual stormy sea. Today she was different. Friendly. Today she smiled and called us pretty. Today, by some miracle, she had wanted to spend some time with us, and give us a makeover.
Arlene turned me around and touched my dark hair, tied neatly in a ponytail by my sweet mother who was waiting for me at home. “Your hair is so pretty,” Arlene said, her fingers smoothing my hair. “And today, I’ll make it even more beautiful.” I held my breath as I heard a snipping sound. One snip to the right, then one snip to the left. “Now, you’re perfect,” she said. I exhaled. It was quick and painless. I crossed back to my friends.
She looked at the three of us and beamed. “Now you three are the prettiest little girls on the block,” she said. She and her friend marched away as we turned to each other. My cousin smiled. I felt anxious as I touched my hair. To my relief, my ponytail was still intact. My hair felt exactly the same. I broke into a smile. We hugged each other giddily, laughing out our fear, our anxiety, our glee. We then proceeded to play, skip rope, and make chalk drawings on the sidewalk with our other friends, all the while exchanging secret, conspiratorial smiles with one another. We had just been given the secret stamp of approval by the big girl, by the most important person on the block. We felt grown up, important, and special. Finally, it was sunset and time for all of us, even us freshly ‘anointed’ ones, to go home.
I was getting ready to take a bath, and my mother sat me down and loosened my ponytail. She gave a loud gasp as she removed my hair tie and my ponytail, a full five to six inches of hair, floated and fell like soft dark feathers on the floor. “Lesley Anna,” she exclaimed. “What happened to your hair?” I stared at the shiny clumps of hair in confusion. I stammered and tried to explain to her that Arlene just wanted to see it, and put a few touches to it to make it nicer. My explanations were overlapped by a scream from upstairs, which sounded a lot like Tita Susan, Leah’s mom, soon followed by a loud, bloodcurdling scream next door. It was Ilana’s mother. I miserably thought of Ilana’s thick golden waves which reached past her shoulders, more beautiful than that of any doll or corn-haired fairytale princess, and in that moment, felt sorrier for her than I did myself.
