When I first moved to Chicago after college I was the head counselor/leader of a teen camp in the summers for a park district outside the city. I was still my dorky self but I liked to think some of those kids thought I was kind of cool.
Six months or so later I had a new job in Chicago as a nanny. I had to take the blue line train everyday into downtown for work. At that same time I was also in a show in the evenings with a theater company in the suburbs. I barely had enough time to take the train home and get my car and drive the hour it took to get to the theatre in time for the show.
For this particular role my hair had to be REALLY curly. Since a curling iron simply doesn’t work on my stick-straight hair I started wearing hot rollers instead. My hair never seemed to stay curly long enough so I would put the curlers in earlier and earlier each day.
This one Friday morning I had worn them overnight determined to get my hair extra curly for the show that evening. For some idiotic and unknown reason I went out in public with the hot rollers in my hair, not even bothering to cover them up. HOW EMBARRASSING.
(This photo was taken years after the story took place and they’re not the same type of curlers but this should help paint a picture.)
Even worse, one of my fellow commuters was a girl from my former teen camp. A cool girl who probably would have been too cool to talk to me in high school.
I’ll never forget the way she looked at me like, What is in your hair? Not only were they not covered up but I hadn’t even put them in correctly. I looked a hot mess. I was totally fine with strangers seeing me like that but not this kid from my camp.
I was mortified. But I had learned my lesson.
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