21. I Mustn't Spoil My Hair

We are only allowed to wash our hair once a week, but my hair looks greasy and unruly after just a couple of days. I hate how it goes all kinky and won’t lie flat. Bits stick out all over the place and I can’t get it to do what I want. I’d love one of those nice neat bobs which curl evenly all round. Sometimes I wish I had long hair so I could put it in a ponytail. I’ve never had long hair. I’m not sure why. I don't think I'm allowed. I think Mummy doesn't like girls having long hair.

When I’m at home I try to blow dry my hair and curl my bob so it looks smart and neat. Sometimes Mummy does it for me. It’s so annoying though because one side just won’t curl under, however hard I try it flicks outwards while the other side curls under perfectly. Even the hairdresser mummy takes me to in the St Didier shopping centre can’t make it curl under on the right side! My hair is rebellious. It will not conform.

When I'm at school, I break the rules. I wash my hair in the sink in the mornings, bending my neck right down to avoid getting all wet, using a mug to mix hot and cold water. It’s tricky getting the temperature just right. This is not allowed and I have to be careful not to get caught. I’m lucky that my hair is fine and dries quickly. The one and only advantage of having fine hair that I can think of.

And of course, I did get caught last week. Webb walked in just as I had finished rinsing out the shampoo. It takes ages, one mug of water at a time. I got an order mark and she said she doesn’t want to catch me again or there will be trouble. She called me vain and silly and said it’s bad for my hair to wash it so often.

I hate her.

I’m flying home for the holidays tomorrow and I can’t go home with greasy hair. Mummy and Daddy will be so disappointed if I don’t look nice.

I haven’t washed my hair since Sunday, I’ll just have to risk washing it in the sink tonight before we go to bed. If I towel dry it quickly and get under the sheets before Matron comes to turn the lights off, she won’t notice.

My plan has succeeded. I’m safe. But I know that if I fall asleep with damp hair it will look dreadful in the morning. So, in the dark I sit up and brush it so that my bob hangs neatly and my fringe is straight. I daren’t lie down now. I have to keep it neat. I prop my pillow up against the metal frame and half sit, half lie in bed, head straight, hair off the pillow.

“I’ll try to stay like this all night” I decide, “I should be able sleep sitting up, I mustn’t spoil my hair”.

But I’m so uncomfortable I can’t sleep. Eventually, my eyes droop and I start to doze and then I jolt awake. I have to stay upright. I mustn’t spoil my hair. It’s only one night.

I do fall asleep of course and unconsciously slide down the bed. When I wake in the morning my hair looks a mess. I try so hard to brush it into submission but I am fighting a losing battle. I feel so frustrated and sad and worried that I won’t look pretty for Mummy and Daddy. I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough.

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Looking good was paramount in my family. Mostly so that people (and by people I mean anyone we came into contact with) would think well of us and see us as respectable. It was very important to look good according to whatever standards my mother set. This idea shackled me for years. I tried to hard to work out how to be pleasing to people, how to fit in, how to be like them, it was soul destroying. The thought that I felt it was necessary to stay up all night to make sure I looked presentable fills me with sadness. The notion that I had to look 'nice' confounded me well into my late thirties as I tried to work out what qualified as nice.

My hair has been a source of frustration ever since my school days. Too fine to grow long, too straight to suit many short styles. For some years I have settled on having it very short, which I know most people don't like on me. I know beacuse they say so or they say nothing. These days I care less. I've given up on the idea of liking my hair and have learned to live with it. We have made a truce me and my hair. I have stopped bullying it into styles with hot air and brushes and it does its best to sit still and look ok. I can and do live with that.

Go to the next story: 22. Flying Home For Christmas