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My Dad Permed my Hair


Welcome back to Dorie's Stories {devotional} Blog!!!

For this post, I wrote a brand new devotional story that will be featured in my upcoming next book! Don't worry -- I'm not writing about perms because I think they are back in style. At least not for elementary school students.

But who knows? None of us thought "mom jeans" would ever be considered trendy. They used to be part of some kind of mom uniform, best worn with a turtleneck/sweatshirt combo.

You can see from my picture that my perm did not start any trends. I do believe that splatter paint jumper was my favorite outfit and was popular at one point, but I don't know what kind of ninja move pose I'm doing with my hands. Keep in mind someone paid to have this picture developed and printed.

I digress. Here it is... a dad-perm-themed Dorie story.

From a future chapter from my currently unnamed next book . . .

Chapter ?: My Dad Permed my Hair

My dad permed my hair. No, he was not a licensed hair stylist. It was definitely his first perm. I’m not sure if we were trying to save money on haircare or if it was because my dad was an engineer and could figure out anything. His daughter begged to get a perm and he was going to make it happen.

I had gotten a bad short haircut that summer and we had moved to a new state. I was starting a new school in a few days.

I was desperate.

But then, I remembered seeing spiral perm boxes at the grocery store.

This was my answer.

Surely the picture on the front of the box was the result of these miracle kits. I truly believed that it somehow would produce long ringlets no matter what the pre-perm hair length was.

I don’t blame my dad for what ensued. We bought the kit and I convinced him to get the smallest, tightest curl rod size because...”the tighter the curl, the better,” everyone always says.

He meticulously followed the step-by-step directions and the next day, I started a new school sporting a granny perm.

This was a rough start to the fifth grade.

Unfortunately, wearing your hair in tight curls that were cut over your ears was just a trend in nursing homes for the most part at this time. It did not catch on in elementary school. I had to wait the two years it took to grow out.

I did find myself to be a bit of a target to bullies as the new kid with the fresh perm.

I would come home crying about the newest insults, some revolving around my Polish descent. (I guess the kids were getting bored with the hair comments and wanted to mix things up a bit.)

My parents tried to help. I remember my dad giving me Polish inventor facts as comeback lines.