"The Merm"

  Even as a child, I tried to look my very best when leaving the house. Some people were just naturally blessed with the ability to roll out of bed and look angelic but others, like myself, need a few coats of primer and a lion tamer before heading out the front door. This is especially evident in teenage girls once they realize that they can take control of their hair, face and style. 

  BUT....

  What about those poor defenseless grade schoolers? I know I've mentioned before that my grade school years were THE WORST. It's such an awkward time. Imagine walking around, completely unaware and disconnected from the fact that you have toothpaste around your mouth, gum in your hair, and toilet paper hanging out of your pants. You live in bliss until one day, your classmates begin to develop that self awareness before you do. GREAT. 

  With that in mind, let's talk about parents. I truly believe that my parents had my best interest at heart but I just don't know what they were thinking sometimes. After much thought, prayer, meditation and medication, I've decided that my parents were merely trying to keep me humble. Yes, humble, that must be it. 

 It's not just my parents or the fact that I was forced to wear stirrup pants until 1997. This type of awkward "humble-ization" has followed me all the days of my life. It's always been with my hair. I have ALWAYS wanted long hair, ever since kindergarten when all the pretty little girls had their long flowing ponytails. 

                                                       "The 80's"

   I received a spiral perm yearly until I was twelve. That's not too bad. Then there was the time I ended up with a bob. Not too bad either. 

Then there was the bowl cut. That one..... pretty bad. 

   After this, things were getting better and for some random reason, my mother thought a mullet would look really awesome on me. Nope. So, to make it better she gave me another spiral perm because perms make it all better. I had what I call the "merm". This was THE. WORST. EVER. 

    I present to you:      "The Merm" 

    Once I reached adolescence, I was just so excited to have control over my mane but everyone knows your hair is only as nice as your beautician. Right?

                                                  "Oh the 90's"

  It started with a retired beautician that knew my family somehow, a clipping from seventeen magazine, and a kitchen chair. About 8 inches of hair and tears later the beautician informed me that she "cut my hair so that it would grow out to look like the picture and that I would thank her later". 

I looked like a cross between George Harrison from the Beatles and Moe (Larry and Curly's brother). You know? His short rounded nearly bowl cut bob with short blunt bangs. I will say, it DID grow out lovely but the humiliation I suffered from classmates made it less than worth it. 

  A few trims here, a few there, and then there was the one right before my engagement. I was trying to grow out my long locks and needed a trim. My hairdresser was all booked up so I ran down the street just for a trim. To make a long story short, this woman did not speak very much English and when I left the salon, my hair was so bad looking that I laughed and immediately drove to my hairdresser. When I walked in her shop! Her jaw dropped, she let out a gasp, and said,"WHAT happened to your hair?!" She immediately sat me down in her chair and proceeded to try and fix the mess. My hair was 2 inches shorter on one side than the other. I had layers from 2 inches to 8 inches. It was a total mess. I should have been patient and simply waited for an opening. My hairdresser knew of the woman who cut my hair. She told me who and where the woman was and that she had been fixing her "haircuts" for over a year. Good to know. 

       Growing out a little....      Growing out before wedding

 So, do any of you have a story about a bad haircut? Pictures, maybe? Are there things your parents did that made the awkward school days just a little bit worse? Or were you one of those angelic, beautiful children? 

 Although, the physical aspects of my childhood were disturbing at times, (the "Merm") I am thankful for parents who truly cared for and loved me no matter what I looked like. I appreciate their efforts to kept me humble, however unusual. I know that most of what I am today is because of them and how they raised me. I only pray that I can be as nurturing as my parents have been and that when my son is grown he will appreciate or even forgive me for the things that I make him endure for the sake of photos, family functions, or church.

My sacrifice is a humble spirit, O God; you will not reject a humble and repentant heart. (Psalms 51:17 GNBDK)

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.

(Proverbs 22:6 ESV)