Time to grow up

made in joint with F35H

 

Saturday

Millie sighed, looking in the mirror at her hair, the ends now just tickling her chin, and it had been months since graduation. Previously her hair grazed the middle of her back but her mother had insisted, the length was removed and her naturally straight hair tortured into curls with a perm. The after effects were still apparent with the bottom half of her hair. The contrast was jarring, pinstraight roots, all the way to her ears, then frizzy curls the remaining 6 inches. She wouldn’t leave the house like this, of course, but she knew that straightening it every day wasn’t helping its condition one bit. She brushed her grown out fringe from her eyes and let out another sigh.

“I can see that fringe is annoying you nearly as much as it is me.” Millie’s mother, Beatrice, commented from the doorway. “I can’t stand watching you fiddle with it all the time, Millicent. Come down to the kitchen and I’ll give you a little tidy up.”

“Mum I really don’t think…” Millie started, nervously, already hurriedly trying to pin the overgrown fringe away.

“Oh hush it’s just your fringe, I did that all the time when you were little” Beatrice scoffed, she clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer today.

“Ok just…not too short I’m trying to grow this out you know!” Millie’s graduation photo stared at her from the desk, the stiff permed set atop her head nearly making her look a mature student. 24 hours before that photo her hair was the envy of her friends, then with some scissors, curlers and chemicals she had been made into mum’s vision of what a respectable girl looked like.

She reluctantly followed Mum downstairs, and perched on the high kitchen stool as instructed, a towel clutched around her neck. Mum combed Millie’s fringe straight down over her eyes, tutted, and slid her scissors in well above Millie’s eyebrows.

Before Millie could object, Mum made three decisive snips, consigning half of Millie’s fringe to her lap.

“That’s better. Don’t you look nice and smart now we can see your face again!”

Millie was reeling, a look in the mirror confirmed her worry, a childish fringe now framed her face, the curled ends on her lap. “M-mum! I said not too short!”

The straight fringe looked especially odd with the permed ends of her bob cut, a bowl of straight hair and frizzed curly ends.

Beatrice sighed. “It’s not too short, it’s much longer than mine and it’s only the same as when you last had it cut and looked smart.”

“Honestly you are being such a child over such an inconsequential thing as hair, you had it so that it was nice and easy and now you’re fussing over it again like a schoolgirl, a child!”

“Look, Mum, I just want to grow it out again, OK? I know you wanted me to look smart for graduation, but, you know, no-one has short curly perms any more.”

Beatrice sniffed. “Well, I don’t expect many of those ‘influencers’ do, but if you want to look respectable instead of trashy, then you need it cut neatly. Why Miriam’s daughter got her hair done just last week.

“Ugh…” Millie had been shown the pictures. Miriam beaming, and Rachel with a forced smile below her new, stiff curls. She didn’t know the back story, but knew all too well how Rachel would have been feeling. “I’m growing it out, OK. It’ll be in a bob for a while, you ought to like that, it’s how you made me have it cut when I was 5”

Beatrice stopped, thinking… “I did, didn’t I?” A wry grin appeared on her face. “Ok fine, but just promise that tomorrow you’ll wear something decent, in fact I’ll just lay something out for the day, don’t go wearing those silly jeans with holes in them that you seem to love so much.”

Millie rolled her eyes. “They’re designer, but fine, I’ll do that for you.”

“Good, thank you… I’m going out shopping, I’ll be back later” Beatrice smiled. “Clean up this mess for me?”

Millie looked at her mum in shock, before taking the dustpan and brush and bending over, a sad look on her face as she touched her new short fringe, and swept up the severed remains of what was. “6 damn months…”

Sunday

Millie yawned, slowly coming to, and ran her hands through her hair. She stopped abruptly as she realised that her fringe no longer needed to be pushed back from her face. She grunted, remembering the cold scissors sliding across her forehead, and reflexively checked that the rest of her hair was still intact.

She fingered the frizzy ends with distaste, and decided to straighten her hair before she did anything else. She scoured her dressing table, puzzled.

“Mum! Where’s my straighteners‽”

“Don’t worry I’ll sort your hair downstairs, hurry up and get changed, we’re running late! It’s hanging on my bedroom door.”

Beatrice grinned, her trip to the charity shop had gone perfectly, and she waited for the shouts from her daughter.

“Mummmmm! I can’t wear this!!!!” Millie screamed in horror. Before her was a monstrosity of bows, yellow in colour with a short petticoated skirt, it looked just like the children’s party dresses Mum used to put her in, just much bigger.

“Millie you promised, now put it on we’re running very late!”

~~~~~~~~

The sight that came downstairs was certainly something, white socks, the dress, it was a tall toddler. Mary Jane shoes made clicking noises on the kitchen linoleum floor. “Now come here I’ll sort the mess you call hair out.”

Millie pouted. “Mum, I can’t wear this. It’s ridiculous. I look about five!”

“I’m afraid that’s what you get for refusing to keep your hair in a sensible, grown up style. You end up with a curly bob and  straight fringe, and it is, as you say, a rather childish style.”

As Beatrice spoke, she maneuvered Millie onto a kitchen stool and started dragging a comb through her hair. Millie winced.

“It’s not going to get straight just by you combing it harder!”

“Oh, I know dear. No time for straightening. We’ll just get it tidy and out of your face.”

Beatrice quickly fluffed up the curls, before forcing Millie’s hair into a centre parting. She scraped a small section back on the left hand side, deftly wrapping a bright yellow bobble around.

“Ow! That’s too tight.”

Beatrice ignored her, and did the same to the right hand side.

“I do like to be able to see your face properly,” she commented. “Now, just one more thing…”

She produced a length of wide yellow ribbon, and ignoring Millie’s shocked expression, slipped it underneath the back of Millie’s bob, behind her ears and tied it into a big bow on top, separating the childishly short, straight fringe and the fluffy curly bob.

“Mummm! I can’t go out like this!” Millie looked, for a lack of a better word, adorable. Every five year old girl dressed by her mum would be the same! She stared at her mum, horror on her face.

“Yes you can, and will. You promised you’d wear what I chose and now you are and we’re leaving.”

Beatrice had a massive grin on her face staring at her daughter. She looked exactly like she did when she was young, and they went to her mother’s, Millie’s grandmother’s wedding anniversary, albeit a bit taller.

The car ride was an effort, Beatrice not allowing Millie in the front seat and watching her turn bright red in the back seat. She’d grabbed Millie before she had time to do makeup, and that was how Beatrice, and most of the mothers she’d see today, preferred it.

The congregation enjoying the sunshine outside the church was a bit of a mix, older women with their hair set in neat plain manners, shaved napes and pointed sideburns complementing their shellacked curls. In a corner was Miriam and her daughter Rebecca with matching sets, and the same outfit even. Miriam’s a slate blue pleated midi skirt, Rebecca’s a maroon colour. And gossiping on their phones in the centre was a group of long haired girls, mid back locks flying about in the breeze, all pinstraight with ripped jeans. A few had obviously been forced into a token effort by their mothers, their hair gelled back into military style buns and wearing something a little smarter, but they did not look happy.

“M-mum you can’t do this…” Millie stuttered. She looked in the car mirror, her high curly pigtails a ridiculous contrast to the short straight fringe.

“Oh calm down, it’ll only be an hour. Are you embarrassed of your adorable little bob or something?” Miriam smiled. “If so we can skip the coffee morning. The salon will be open at Grandma’s care home, and I’m sure she could fit you in…”

“M-mum! I can’t…!” But the thought of going into the church right now was terrifying, all those people seeing her looking like… this. “O-ok! But just a trim, OK? I don’t want to look like… one of her regulars.” Millie shivered, cringing at the thought.

Beatrice grinned widely. “Oh I’m sure she’ll give you exactly what you need…”

Millie wasn’t really listening, busy trying to persuade herself that she would need to have the old perm cut out at some point, and that once the curls, pigtails and ribbons were gone, her mother would allow her to change into something rather less childish.

~~~~~~~~

The old people’s home where Millie’s grandmother stayed was one of the posher ones, they housed indoor entertainment, individual rooms, and a hair salon that opened up a few times a week. Iris had been the regular hairdresser for so many years at this point, it was nearly time for her to become a resident. Millie had met her once or twice, and remembered her as an intimidating woman, her always immaculate outfits perfectly complimenting her permed carapace of a hairdo, cemented in place with enough lacquer to withstand a hurricane.

At the reception desk a young blonde sat chewing gum and playing on her phone, her free hand twirling her mid back pin straight hair around a finger. “Aww, visiting grandma?” She said in a sing-song voice as Millie walked past, not looking up from her phone at all. Millie blushed crimson and didn’t answer.

“Yes she is,” Beatrice piped up. “and Iris too.” She frowned at the blonde girl.  “You could do with a visit to her as well…” She muttered to herself.

The walk into the makeshift hair salon was a terrifying one, rows of old ladies with matching, ultra short, permed hairdos lined the sides. All staring at Millie as her Mary Jane’s clicked against the linoleum floor.

“Hello Iris, my *adult* daughter needs a decent haircut for church and you’re the only person open at the moment…” Beatrice grinned, smarmily.

Iris looked Millie up and down in mock horror, the seemingly tall toddler in front of her eliciting her emotions.

“Good god woman! Do you think you’re six, dressing like this?”

“I, um…” Millie was in shock, the sudden outburst of Iris was completely unexpected, and seemed especially unfair as her mother had forced the dress on her.

“With such a silly, childish hairstyle, I thought that a sweet little party dress was the best thing for her.” Beatrice replied smugly. “She didn’t seem too happy with it though, so perhaps she’s finally realised that it’s time to grow up.”

“Well one thing’s for certain,” Iris scowled. “You’ll soon be looking your age, Missy, and then some! Dorris, could this *WOMAN* borrow some of the clothes from the donation bin?”

One of Iris’ finished ladies scuttled off to look for some clothes. Still shocked, Millie allowed herself to be placed in the chair. “I-I just want a trim…” she said meekly, the eyes of the room on her.

“So Beatrice, I’m assuming we’re losing the pigtails at least?” Iris ignored Millie in the chair, chatting directly to her mother. “Seeing as we’re going for… mature?”

“Um, can you just cut the old perm out?” Millie said,  trying to take control of the situation. Losing the permed mess would let her hair grow more evenly she figured. It’d be shorter which would please mum until it could grow out again, and yes she’d lose a fair amount of the length she’d grown trying to get back to mid back length locks, but it had to happen eventually.

“Oh we’ll be doing that anyways, so much unprocessed hair it just looks awful” Iris smiled, turning to Beatrice.

“Yes, start there, though I do like what you’ve done with Mum’s hair…” it was short, Beatrice knew this, but who knew when she’d next get Millie in the chair again, it’d been 6 months since the last decent cut and perm and though that had lasted a while… this should last longer at least.

“Yes, I like to take my ladies a bit shorter before the warmer weather starts.” Iris replied, her work on show around her, very short perms and shaved napes, each one near identical on the old ladies she’d worked on. “They all appreciate having nice clean necks when it gets hot.”

“Something like that then would be perfect, dear” Beatrice’s smile conflicted with the look of horror on her daughter’s face. So much was the shock of what had just been said, Millie barely even registered the silver scissors now below her left pigtail’s bobble.

The sound was quiet to most, but near deafening to Millie, a crunch as her thin hair was simply removed. “And there goes lefty” Iris giggled, placing the curly pigtail on Millie’s lap.

Millie’s eye’s widened, not quite believing what had just happened. “But that’s going to be so short !” she whined.

Iris ignored her, snipping the other pigtail off and deftly removing the wide yellow ribbon. She briskly combed through Millie’s hair. “Most of this will need to come off. I’ll cut all the old perm out, and take her down to about… this length?” She held a lock up between two fingers and looked at Beatrice. “That should be about right for a nice tight curl.”

“That sounds perfect” Beatrice beamed

“Uh, I, uh, I don’t really want it curled.” Millie objected. “Just an, uh, a good tidy up?”

“Oh, you’ll be tidy all right.” Iris replied. “And flat, limp hair like yours looks like a dishmop without some curl in it. I’m not having you get out of my chair without having it properly styled. I have a reputation to think of, you know.”

As she talked, Iris had been lifting and snipping Millie’s hair, shortening it to a uniform two inches all over. She started to wind each section around skinny pink plastic rods pulling tight enough to make Millie wince.

“Ow! Do you have to yank like that?”

“A perm is only as good as the winding.” Iris replied smugly, pulling another section tight.

“But I didn’t want another perm.” Millie pouted again.”I thought you were just going to use a curling iron or something.”

“I think you’ll find that your mother is paying the bill, and she wants you looking like a grown woman, with a neat and tidy perm, not a little girl with your pigtails and ribbons.”

“Oh yes dear.” Beatrice gushed. “You looked so grown up with your last perm. I just can’t bear to have you going back to looking like a silly schoolgirl with that long straight hair. Have a nice perm for me, dear, and I’m sure you’ll get used to looking respectable in no time.”

By this point, Iris had covered a good half of Millie’s head with the skinny pink rods, and Millie sighed.

“I suppose I don’t have much choice.” She groused. Beatrice smiled tightly at Iris.

Aside from wincing and small sounds of exasperation, Millie sat still as her head was covered in a carapace of rods, from her hairline at the front to just below the occipital bone at the back.

A loud crack made Millie jump nearly out her seat. Iris tutted. “Stay still young lady! I don’t want to mess this up” and the guardless clipper touched the line between rod and loose hair, dragging down. “There we go, beautiful, you’ll love this in the summer heat.”

Millie was horrified, sitting still feeling her nape being bared of all hair. The clippers moved to her left and right side, carefully carving the sideburns into perfect points. Iris didn’t have to worry about Millie moving, as she was scared stiff.

“Now, if you want, Beatrice…” Iris said, smiling as she cut the tip off a perm solution bottle, its smell permeating the air. “Next time I can shave it smooth.” The perfect crescent left on Millie’s neck still had some stubble left.

Millie, coming out of her paralysis, tried to find some positives. As much as she didn’t like having her nape shaved she was happy it was over. Dreading another few months of growing it out, but at least she won’t look a mess every morning… and she wouldn’t have to straighten her hair again… honestly that was too much faff, it was easy on her unprocessed hair but leaving the curly parts curly would be even easier.

As the perm processed, Millie was left with her thoughts and an ancient copy of good housekeeping, and Dorris returned with an armful of clothes. A long pleated maroon skirt that would tickle Millie’s shins, and a ruffled blouse with a high neckline and long sleeves.

~~~~~~~

Millie sat in her new outfit as her permed hair was fluffed with a four-pronged comb, each fluff followed by 6-7 seconds of spray from the “Extra Strength Water Resistant Hair Lacquer”

Iris smiled. “Millicent, this spray should last a few days at least if you sleep with a hair net and neck pillow”

“I-it’s Millie…” the shocked Millie replied automatically, staring at her carapace come to form.

“Millicent suits you much better now dear, Millie is such a child’s moniker and you definitely don’t look like a young filly! No, you look very smart. In fact, you look just like one of my Sunday regulars!”

Iris giggled, the brush taking hair from Millicent’s bald nape made her cringe, especially when it hit the rock hard permed curls, practically dripping with lacquer. “Why, you could pass for your mum’s little sister!”

Millicent was in shock, a hand reaching up to touch her hair, the stiff object not feeling anything like the silky locks she had just an hour ago. Well mum, won’t have to worry about me going out clubbing anymore, she thought ruefully, unless the WI has an over 40’s night!

In the mirror Millicent saw something that would horrify the young girl with mid back locks were she around to see. The long skirt and blouse combo, coming from the donation bin of an old folks home, fit perfectly with the home’s residents around her. Her Mary Jane’s looked like sensible flats now as opposed to schoolgirls’ shoes. Her face free of makeup, something she’d only done once since she was 14, looked presentable, definitely not pretty and her younger skin looked distinctly out of place. And her hair, a collection of two-inch high curls twisting around themselves and sprayed so solid they were essentially one object.

“You look very smart dear.” Beatrice was smiling wide at her daughter, whose hair now matched  her grandmother’s, shorter than Beatrice’s own. “It’s raining though and although I trust Iris has made sure this will withstand a hurricane…”  She stepped behind Millicent and tied a rain bonnet in place. “There we go”

“Oh yes, much better!” Beatrice smiled. “Very appropriate for work, and I’m sure the WI will be very welcoming now you’re looking so presentable. Now, weekly sets with you Iris? I’m sure grandma will enjoy seeing her every week. And you’ll enjoy having such smart hair Millicent”

Millicent looked up to her mum, her mouth agape, her hand still exploring the alien surface atop her head. She stamped her foot. “B-but mum!”

A small giggle came from the crowd, along with whispers about how she looked far too old for such a stroppy teenage outburst. Millicent wilted.

The long skirts swished as they left, mum smiling widely, walking behind, enjoying the view of her daughter’s clean nape and tight curls reflecting the overhead lighting. Millicent’s Mary Jane’s once again clicked on the floor, but an unrecognisable individual was now wearing them. Her face portraying a deep cringe, and shock, an appointment card in her left hand stating when she should come back to see her grandmother… and new hairdresser.

Her right hand continued to feel her hair, searching for anything soft, anything that she could even run her hand through, searching her nape for a hair, any hair, her frantic hand looking like a reluctant summer haircut teen’s on the first Saturday after school, and absolutely ridiculous on a woman seemingly in her forties.

The young receptionist watched the two leaving, puzzled. “Didn’t that woman come in with a little girl? “She muttered. “And I didn’t see her sister come in at all!”