It was the summer of 1968. I was 16 and discovered the Rolling Stones, boys and lemon juice in a spray bottle. That summer, the bottle of lemon juice went with me everywhere,stored in my first grown up handbag. I
sprayed it on my hair religiously. Everyone thought I was a towhead blonde. I have not seen my real hair color since.
I used my silky blonde hair to flirt, twisting it around my fingers or flipping it back when talking to cute boys. I wore it long, straight and parted in the middle. I liked feeling the weight of my hair down my back. It would never hold a curl. Flat irons were invented to make hair look like what mine did naturally.
I examined the ends of each strand obsessively, trimming the split ends as each one appeared. Whether it was in a ponytail or braid, I loved playing…
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