Through Rose Coloured Glasses

At the start of our lives, we view the world through rose coloured glasses. We believe and adhere to the pearls of wisdom fed to us by our parents – those halcyon days when everything in the garden seemed rosy enough. As we grow older and start viewing life from our perspective, we rebel.

Me, back in the day, cocooned in my little rose-coloured world.

I was born with a full head of hair which, much to my mother’s disappointment, was dead straight. Not quite the girly-girl image she had envisaged. So, I was traumatised from a very early age by hair accessories.

First up, rag curls.  For those who are not familiar with rag curls, this is the deal.  Get an old rag or towel and cut or tear it into strips, lengthwise. Roll strands of your baby’s hair around the rag, then tie each end of the rag, tightly. Repeat, until all the hair on your baby’s head is firmly bound.

One of the many classic Norman Thelwell images that I grew up with.  A mirror image of how I saw myself! © The Estate of Norman Thelwell
The ultimate tool with which to torture a child – Carmen rollers!

My mother was obsessed with my hair.  Not just curling it but tying on oversized floppy ribbons, some as big as my head, which used to flop out after five minutes.  Perming my hair when I was five-years-old, was bordering on the insane.  The smell of that childhood trauma has stayed with me in my adult life.  I throw up if I go anywhere near perm lotion.

Ah, mama mia, she tried so hard for so long, to turn me into a girly girl. She never succeeded, but her obsession with, my thin, straight hair never stopped. Long after she gave up lambasting my Doc Martins and dungarees, and until the day she died, my hair was the trigger of many arguments between us. My hair now? It’s as straight as my genes intended.

Whatever is instilled in us as children, we take with us into adulthood; the good and the bad. The bad stuff has a nasty habit of revisiting us and, during these bouts of unprovoked nostalgia, it’s good to have an emotional release, such as a punchbag, to vent our frustrations. In my case, I write about them and serve them up with a drizzle of humour.

Tales from the African Bush


Carpe Diem

 

 

Published by Tessa Barrie

Blogger from Jersey, Channel Islands UK who believes life's too short to be niche. View more posts

3 thoughts on “Through Rose Coloured Glasses

  1. alhenry – I love a challenge (though I can sometimes be heard cursing myself for taking on yet another hydra-headed project). I enjoy anything that allows me to be creative: writing, cooking, garden design, decoupage. I travel whenever I can, and London is my favorite city in the world, the home of my heart. Over the years, I have paid the mortgage by writing, editing, and teaching. Home is a late-19th century heap (in constant need of TLC) that I share with my funny, smart, generous husband and two wayward cats. Aspirations? To publish my fiction, and enjoy each day.
    alhenry says:

    Yes, you cannot change the past. You can’t “fix” it. Sometimes, for your own sanity, you just have to let it go.

Thank you very much for visiting my niche-less blog! If you have time before you leave, would love you to tell us what you think. All the best, Tessa Barrie

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