Thursday, December 4, 2014

Dear Diary

The summer before I started junior high, I started keeping a diary.  It was a red five-year diary with a lock and key. Now, I ask you, what serious diarist would have a 5 year diary?  The spaces on the pages for each day's entries would barely hold 20 words!



I'm giving away my age here, once again, by admitting this; but, I also had a fountain pen. I tried to neatly record my daily happenings in my few allotted lines. It actually was pretty easy because not much was going on. The romantic side of me thought if anything ever happened to me, my loved ones could find this diary and read from my neatly penned prose and discover how brilliant I really was and what a tragedy my life was cut short.


I know.  I had quite the dramatic imagination.

Maybe they would have opened up the diary to read that one day during summer vacation:

"Dear Diary, Today, Grandma Sybil dyed my hair strawberry blonde.  Boy, was my dad mad!"

Not many twelve-year-olds in the late sixties dyed their hair. Now, of course, no one would blink an eye over this, but at the time, my parents thought this was a tragedy of epic proportions. The main source of their outrage was the fact that Grandma did this. Without. Asking. Permission.

I don't know why she did it. Looking back, it seemed it was a spur of the moment decision. I complained about the color of my hair mainly because someone had hurt my feelings describing my hair as "dishwater blonde." I felt it made my hair sound nasty. My life would be so much better if I were an attractive strawberry blonde. (I had gotten the phrase "strawberry blonde" out of a book.) Perhaps, probably, I had driven my Grandma crazy with my whining.

One day, while at the store, she noticed a box of Miss Clairol marked "strawberry blonde," and the rest was history.

Because my dad had yelled so much about the whole incident, Grandma would never again go near a box of Miss Clairol. Now I had a new problem:  how to look attractive with dishwater blonde roots!

Mama's Losin' It



This post was written in response to Writer's Workshop prompt 1. Share a diary entry from when you were younger…feel free to make one up! I felt this totally true story would be perfect for this prompt.

For more zany responses, visit Kat's blog, "Mama's Losin' It."

8 comments:

Dianna said...

Oh. my. goodness. Jerralea, this is such a good diary entry! I don't know which I liked best...the fact that your grandma would do that for you or that your dad was so angry about it that she would never go close to a box of Miss Clairol again! LOL

Melanie Cook said...

I remember those 5-year diaries. Such a funny diary entry! It is amazing that your grandma did that - you must have really been whining!

Donetta Sifford said...

Excellent entry, and fantastic memory to share. Although, I was born in '76, my grandparents raised me. My hair hung all the way down to my bottom, so at the age 12, my mom had me for the weekend, and she let my step-dad's niece cut my hair. I thought my grandfather was going to kill someone. My grandmother was more understanding. She was the very religious one too. My grandfather just held strong to the belief that women, especially his granddaughter, should have long flowing hair like Crystal Gayle. lol. My post for Mama Kat is on my other blog at donettas.wordpress.com if you want to stop by!

bloggingastrid.com said...

I would actually use a five-year diary. I kept a diary faithfully for 3 1/2 years during my first years of secondary school, but stopped writing in it when everyone including me had an Interent connection (oh, is it bad that I give out my age here? LOL) and I started an online diary. I wonder whether my parents ever read my offline diary, as I did read the letters they wrote (if they concerned me). Oh and LOL to you getting your hair dyed at twelve.

Carol said...

What a treasure to be able to go back to journal entries of your youth!

That is quite funny about your "dishwater blonde" perspective. Sounds like your grandmother learned the bigger lesson!

May said...

I am dying (sorry, no pun intended) to know if this was your dad's mom or your mom's mom?! As angry as your dad got, I am hoping it was his mom because it seems like peace would be restored easier if it was!

Mama Kat said...

Oh my gosh this is epic! I love Grandma for taking your complaints to a whole new level. If my 11 year old came home with DYED hair I have to say I'd probably react just like your Dad! That's a pretty big decision to make when you're not the parent!! lol But it makes for a great story!

mamawriteswords said...

This is great! I also kept a diary and I love going back and reading all the "Drama" that happened when I was younger.