Toilet Paper Roll Beauty

by Shirley Bahlmann
Why is it that people (women, mostly) generally want hair different than what they were born with? If it's curly, they wish it were straight, if it's straight, they want curly. I'm guilty, too.
I'm headed for the LDStorymaker Writing Conference, and I'm a straight-want-curly girl. It's true that I have rollers. (The baaa-d sheep-wool perms of the 80's have thankfully gone by the wayside, except for the photos in the family album that make my boys ask, "Which one is you, Mom?" I point me out. "No, Mom, which one is really you?") The rollers I have are small, and I wanted big, luscious waves instead of tight, kinky curls. I tried to go the conventional route, I really did. I looked on the curler shelf at my store. They had some big rollers, all right, but they were nested with a bunch of medium, small, and tiny rollers. I would have had to buy ten packs to get the curlers I wanted. Then what would I do with the other sizes?
In the 60's, I remember my big sister used to roll her hair on orange juice cans. That was a little bigger than I was looking for. My hair isn't as long as hers was. What to do? What to do?
Then, one day last week, I was in that special room where it's always calm and peaceful, and my eyes lit on the perfect sized roller... a toilet paper roll. I was so excited I nearly jumped off my seat.
Last Sunday, I gave the toilet paper rollers a test run. I pinned the cardboard tubes to my nearly-dry hair and walked around like a medusa with coiled snakes on her head. When I was reasonably dry, I took the toilet paper rolls out and went to church. One of the prettiest ladies in our ward saw me, did a double take, and said, "Oooo, I love your hair!"
"Thank you," I said.
Some beauty secrets are better left secret.