The Summer My Perm Was Too Tight

It was the summer of 1976. I had just gotten a perm, a nice loose perm with soft curls, we all wore our hair like that. Well, not everyone because I vaguely remember a few girls (and guys, too) sporting the more traditional parted-down-the-middle half-way-down-their-back style.

So, let's delve into this hair matter just a little bit further. I had been using Sun In on my hair for the last few years and it looked an odd shade of orange and I needed a huge change. The hairdresser at the J.C. Penney Salon suggested I have it colored back to my original color of "dish-water blond" and try having a perm. You know, to soften my face a little.

After years of chemically stripping my hair and using the same shampoo that all the other girls were using at the time (Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific was the only shampoo to use back then and yes for those of you who weren't weren't around during this fine time, Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific was the actual name of a shampoo with matching conditioner). Sheesh, the chemical gods weren't flying any flags in my honor that day, because this was one extremely tight Afro-American hair style I walked away wearing.

I have always had an unhealthy respect for authority, more of a fear actually. Who am I do argue with a professional from J.C. Penney? If she thinks that what we need to do with my hair, that's what we do.

Another fine example of this unhealthiness for authority is revealed at the time I purchase my first car. I ended up buying a Chevrolet Nova, the year again was 1976. Did I have the totally pimped out bi-centennial Nova? No, the sales man thought the four door powder blue sedan would be a "safe bet" for me. Seriously, the guy was a professional and he should certainly know what an eighteen year old too-tightly permed girl would want to be driving. Want another example, click here.

So, off I drove off the lot in my blue 1976 Chevrolet Nova. It wasn't even metallic blue, I think the color was called pansy-ass blue with an AM-only radio. Anyway, I had my professionally-advised hair and my professionally-advised automobile. I had my full coverage automobile insurance which was exactly what the insurance representative suggested. I was compliant. A good girl, a rule follower, safe, and accidentally too tightly-permed.

Did I have an inner rebel? Would I dare take a walk on the wild side?

yes yes yes yes oh yes. I bought a juke box for my car. Oh yes, I did. I don't remember the brand but you can bet it was the best eight track player that Radio Shack offered that summer. I had a plan. I knew it was my car, but I was going to pretend it belonged to my parents. Yeah, it was a dumb plan and I never really used it.

So I got my juke box installed and they had to drill some fancy holes in the ledge in the back of the car. I don't know what that place is called, but you know what I mean? The ledge in the back where old people stick a box of kleenix and orange hunting caps so that they can tell it is there car when they are at the grocery store? That's the place they had to drill the holes for my speakers. Big ass speakers. BIG ASS SPEAKERS.

And my first, eight track? Peter Frampton Live. Peter would sing directly to me, Do You Feel Like I Do? The speakers threw more re verb than any 1976 Chevrolet Nova had ever been meant to endure. I would yell back:

YES, Peter, I DO! I do feel like you do and I kind of look like you do. I am now loving my my perm. It is slowly relaxing Peter, we could share the same hair pic! Peter, Peter look at me!

Walk with me now, if you will, all the way over to the current times. We've got a community festival every summer with "name brand" entertainment. I've seen Vince Neil of Motley Crue, Rick Springfield (call Jenny at 867-5309, she is still waiting), I've seen Kansas and Warrant. Those are the facts, we've got the name brand bands but they are about twenty-five years late.

Peter Framptom was recently doing a come back tour at our festival and we went with another couple. It was Retro-Current (I just invented that, really. Retro-Current is my idea so slap a patent on it and bring me my check). I was there with friends I graduated with from high school and we are singing along with the songs. We are laughing and singing and wondering whether or not Peter would like a glimpse of our geriatric globes, you don't know unless you ask. We offered a couple of times but I think the speakers may have drowned out our offer.

Another reason, the geriatric globes stayed confined is because of this was a Retro-Current concert and my oldest son had just turned twenty one and was their with a group of his friends from high school and they were laughing and signing and I didn't want their to be pointing and humiliation.

Great story, huh. Yup, it is true because I have too much unhealthy respect for authority to make stuff up because that would be lying.

Now here is the story behind the story. I am going through google reader and checking up on my peeps and whoa, what the heck is this little paragraph at the bottom of LuLa's blog:

Carrie, if you use the term "geriatric globes" and "Rick Springfield & Peter Frampton" in your comment, you WIN! I don't know the prize yet, but you'll still win. 'Cause that's just smokin' hot. For real.

And if this was baseball, I just would have hit a Grand Slam or in Poker it might be a Royal Flushing Straight, and I think tennis has Perfect Love, but in blogging from now until eternity the term will be, and am I right with this one, LuLa? You've just been Candid Carried! Oh yeah!



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