One of the last big hurdles in wedding planning that I have to face is what to do with my hair. Do I save money and do it myself, or do I avoid a potential catastrophe and entrust my hair to a stylist? I decided to experiment with hot rollers to see if the DIY route was even remotely feasible.
The main problem is that my hair has to be dipped in glue before it can be convinced to hold a curl. When I try to use a curling iron on it, the side I started on will be limp and straightened out again by the time I get to the other side of my head. Heaven forbid I ever touch my hair once it’s curled and set, or else I’ll wind up with one or two half-hearted, frizzy waves by the end of the day.
So I dug out Ye Old 1980s Hot Rollers Set from our childhood bathroom cabinets and, after confirming with my mom that they probably still worked and wouldn’t burn all my hair off, I carefully rolled up my hair and waited.
Kevin was out running an errand and when he got back, my hair was still in rollers. I loitered in the living room waiting from him to notice, thinking it would be fun to surprise him.
He finally looked up and did the predicted double-take. “Hey, that’s a different look. New makeup?”
“What are those, anyway?”
“Hot rollers! These might keep my hair curled for more than an hour!”
He spotted the base lying on the bathroom counter. “It looks like a medieval torture device.”
“Want to see how they work?”
“See, the spikes heat up the inside of the roller, and then you just wrap your hair up without sticking your finger in there, cuz it’s kind of like a car cigarette lighter.”
“That sounds awful.”
“I did all the time when I was little. Well, my mom did – this is how our hair was always done for every formal picture and all our dance stuff.”
He didn’t seem too impressed, but then most beauty regiments baffle him. I sat patiently until the rollers cooled down and went into the bathroom for the big reveal. Lo and behold, there were curls! I pulled them apart and pinned them in a bun-like thing on the back of my head and wound up with a hairstyle that would have been perfect for dinner out at the local co-op. Not exactly the look I was going for for my wedding, but it was a start.
I tried them again the next morning. This time I added curl spray, and instead of the loose but sprightly curls I’d accomplished last night, I wound up with awkward short tight curls a la Clara from “Muppet Christmas Carol.” Yikes.
Naturally I told Facebook about my embarrassing ‘do and went out into the world, hoping that my hair’s natural inclination to do jack-squat would eventually reduce my poofy curls to something more socially acceptable. Sure enough, by late morning, the perky curls had drooped down into regular curls, and after it started raining later in the afternoon, all I had left was a trace of wave and texture, made more crispy than usual by the hairspray.
If this is going to be my affordable wedding hair option, I’m going to need a lot more practice.