"When did you become a rebel?"

"When did you become a rebel," an old friend asked me during lunch a few months ago. I had to laugh and toss my head as I replied, "You know, I really don't remember." She and I had been friends for a very long time and though we rarely got to see one another throughout the year, we did manage to stay in touch through other means. 

After our meal, I went home and began to think about her question. I thought for days and days, never coming up with a definitive answer and then, last night, in the middle of the night, I had it! I knew exactly when I became a rebel. 

I vividly remember the scene in my mind - my cousin and I were in my parent's old home. We had been playing while the adults were visiting. I don't know what we were doing before the rebellious streak in me appeared, but as I dig through my memory bank, a clip from that day is so clear. She and I were on the stairs. Paper doll scissors in hand, I cut her bangs and she cut mine. We cut them way too short and started laughing at our handiwork. We were proud to have done something nice for each other but found it our deed wasn't so nice a few minutes later. 

The next thing I remember was my mother yelling out my first and middle name in a tone that emphasized her displeasure with me. "What in heaven's name have you done?" she asked. Shrugging my little shoulders, I retorted, "I don't know. We were just having fun." My cousin stood quietly by. I don't remember anyone speaking a word to her, but I got royally chewed out and if memory serves me correctly, I got a swift and hard spanking. That was the moment I decided I'd fight back. I didn't say a word to my mother, but I was determined she'd never treat me that way again. 

When I was growing up, my grandmother would often give me pages from the McCall's magazine. The pages held pictures of a paper doll, Betsy McCall. Grandmother thought I'd have fun cutting them out and playing with them, which I did even though the dolls didn't last long since they were flimsy magazine weight paper. I enjoyed cutting around the figures and making sure not to nip the little tabs that held the clothes on Betsy. It was cheap entertainment back in the early 60s. A little later on, manufacturers began to print paper dolls on heavier paper and even made kits that included dolls and clothes to cut out. Inside those little boxed kits were the tiniest pair of scissors, too. The kind I used to cut my cousin's hair! Those scissors weren't super sharp but they were sharp enough to do the job and that's all that mattered. 

Cutting my cousin's hair that day also sparked another desire in my heart, to become a cosmetologist. That day helped me realize how much fun it was to not only cut hair but feel the texture of it and style it. I knew one day, I'd get a job doing something I loved and I eventually did, but I'll get to that a little later. 

As I was growing up, I didn't get to have much say about how my hair looked or the way it was styled. My mother, to save money, cut my hair herself. She'd wet my hair, tape down my bangs with pink hair tape popular back then, and whack it off not realizing when the hair dried, it shrank. I look back now at photos of me when I was younger and shudder. My bangs were about 2 inches or more shorter than they should have been, which made me look ridiculous. 

And then, as I grow a little older, my mother started letting our next door neighbor practice her cosmetology skills on me. I can't tell you how many bad perms I had back them! they were hideous and I hated them. 

When I turned 12, my neighbor and girlfriend, Melinda, let me play with her hair all I wanted. So I learned to wash, curl, and blow dry it. She loved the way I did her hair and had me set her hair on those big plastic pink rollers with bobby pins often. Sitting her under the old timey blow dryer was fun, too. I loved watching the cap on that thing poof up with air. 

At 15, I let my rebellious streak out. I began dying my hair. I tried every color available and sometimes did more than one color in a day. It was wicked fun! It's a wonder my hair didn't fall out from all the processing it went through. 

At 16, I began working in a salon in Decatur called the Hair Pair. I loved going to work each day but the pay wasn't good, so I didn't stay long. I kept thinking I'd go to school and get my cosmetology degree, but never did. That didn't stop me from studying and learning to do hair though. 

I've done hair for so many family members and friends over the years and still do to this day. Just last weekend I cut my son in law's hair and my husband's and trimmed up their mustaches and beards. I just enjoy doing it so much. 

I'm kind of glad I got chewed out when I was 5 for cutting off my cousins bangs. If that hadn't happened, who knows where I'd be today! I think all of us have a little rebelliousness in us. No one likes to be told no, do they? I know I sure don't. If you tell me I can't do something, by golly, I'm going to prove to you that I can and I will. I'm proud to be a rebel and hope I'll be one til the day I die.