We are little... sweet, innocent, and pure. And then we grow up.
I get these pictures posted of me on facebook. I love it. But I always end up looking at them later on and I try to grasp the idea that they are really pictures of me. Sometimes they bring memories back to the surface for me. One's that I am sure I'd never have if the picture wasn't there. This one brought a flood of memories to mind. The one posted above. It's me and my brother. I remember Mom's curlers. I remember begging her to put them in my hair. When she did, I was nearly in tears because they were hot (very hot), heavy, and it hurt so bad when she would slide the clip in. Sometimes the clip would dig into my head. BUT, I was okay with that. Somehow I knew that the end result would be worth it (Was it?) But I don't remember that part. I only remember the pain of wearing the curlers. Isn't that funny? I remember Mom telling me that when the dot in the center of the curlers turned black I must not touch them or I would burn myself. Yet, it was just at that moment that she would put them in my hair. Sometimes it would instantly burn my scalp. Sometimes, since my hair was so fine (as it is today) my hair would get in a tangled mess before she was even able to finish wrapping my hair up. And yet, I loved it. I loved wearing those painful, hard things with the spikes in them. I felt like such a little lady. Such a girly girl.
I don't remember the outcome. After all the pain and agony.. lol... I have no idea what my hair ended up looking like. Did I care? I think maybe I didn't.
Was this some sort of prep course for me? Who knew that I would grow up to be just the same.. loving my hair being done, getting girly, pampering myself with pretty stuff....
I like that picture.
I even like my dirty little feet. My little Fred Flinstones.
And, I miss my brother.
The couch? I don't remember that couch at all. It was ugly. But, I'm guessing it was all my parents could afford. And, I bet it was comfortable. I look happy in that picture.
Pure, and innocent.
