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The article is subjective and expresses the personal opinion of the author.
At once, several of my friends shared photos from salons on social networks - daughters show new hairstyles, sparkling with all shades of the rainbow. Even Olya, who was considered a very strict mother, succumbed to the entreaties of her daughter, and her Anyuta, completely happy, natural blonde, became the color of lavender, and exactly half the length of her hair.
In the class of my 10-year-old daughter, three girls met summer with new hairstyles: one with purple dreadlocks, the other with pink hair, and the third in the style of a multi-colored unicorn. I guess I'm too conservative, because I think that it’s too early to conduct such experiments at the age of 10–11 years old. Even under parental supervision. Even with professional hair dye.
But there is a downside: my daughter, whose hair is lower than the priests, refuses to trim the ends. At least a centimeter.
My conservatism is explainable. I grew up in a North Ossetian village, where hair was the main pride of the girl. We girls collected chamomile flowers every summer, which were then dried and brewed. We used this decoction as a rinse conditioner.
I remember how my grandmother cried when her hair began to fall out. The local healer made her a tincture of hot peppers, which should be rubbed into her head
And I was doomed to cut peppers and pick young stalks of nettles, from which another broth was made - from hair loss and brittle hair. If you ever scratched your eyes after slicing pepper, then you will understand me. If not, you have not really suffered.
In the village, all women had a real cult of hair. When my mother came from Moscow with a short haircut, and even with chemistry, which made her look like a lamb (but not very healthy, because she was red), all the women gasped and offered her scarves of various shades - you can’t appear bald on the street! I myself tried to stay away from her.
Since the absence of a long braid, as well as lips painted with red lipstick, summed up eyes and skin-tight trousers - and this is exactly what my mother looked like - were considered a sure sign of a fallen woman whom no one would ever marry. Even the poor widower will not be too long.
At the same time, young children lost their hair regularly. If someone got lice, which happened four times a year, they shaved everyone bald. My grandmother did not want to see me bald, so she cut under the square. And in all school photographs - up to the fourth grade - all the girls are bald, the boys too, I am the only one with hair. The boys differed except in the presence of a forelock. I was very worried and begged my grandmother to shave me at zero.
Once, my friend Fatimka and I took hair dye and dyed it. Then there were only two - basma and henna. We settled on “rock-paper-scissors” and I got basma, and my friend got henna. I was naturally fair-haired, and Fatimka was a bright brunette. Beauties we did not go long - to the store for bread and back.
All the neighbors ran to my grandmother and Fatimkina mother to inform us that we were crazy and that no one would ever marry us. Freshly picked young nettles cooked for soup were not used internally, but externally - to Fatimka and I in the priests. After which we sat with our heads bowed in a basin and soaked. The neck was numb, the legs were rolling, but we sat upside down and did not dare to move. A couple of weeks went in scarves. Fatima even tried to plant lice from our younger sister, so that we were already shaved baldly, but the insects did not take root.
My daughter is engaged in rhythmic gymnastics, which means tight bundles, varnish, gel, hairpins, elastic bands. For appearance in the competition can take points. One morning I, still awake, braided her for school. Braided, sent. And only before training I realized that something was wrong: my daughter had a fringe. Although it’s not like a bang - a lock of hair cut at the root above the forehead. I was asking my daughter for several days, why did she suddenly decide to cut her bangs? She did not admit. She claimed that it wasn’t her.
- And who are the aliens? I asked.
“Yes, they are.” They flew in and cut my bangs, - the daughter joyfully answered.
Then, of course, she suffered. Coaches for experimenting with a hairstyle forced her to swing the press and sit on twine, a double norm - for herself and for aliens. But all this suffering could not be compared to the way I glued her bangs before the competition. Almost glue "Moment". This is probably why she is afraid to cut off even a centimeter of hair - the coaches promised all the girls 50 “jumps” if someone decides to appear after the holidays in the form of a unicorn.
It was the same with my son. At the age of fifteen, he thought about a tattoo and shared his plans with a trainer. The result - a marathon, a hundred push-ups, a hundred press and a bar. Desire quickly disappeared, but there were biceps, triceps and cubes on the stomach.
My friend’s daughter cut her own luxurious mop of hair and secretly dyed it, mixing all the colors. The result was a girl raised by partisans in the trenches. Girlfriend ran to an expensive beauty salon to correct what was done - the daughter cried and tried to glue the cut strands with tape. Not because of mom, but because the experiment failed.
And I remembered how we - girls dancing in the national ensemble - were given false braids before the performance. And those who were issued stood on the back line. To whom did not give - ahead. Happiness was considered to be in the first line. Although Fatimka and bald could dance so that everyone went crazy. Later, in the sixth grade, she even had a crown number - she danced a man’s party, and at the end she plucked her head from her head, and her beautiful hair, grown thanks to chamomile, nettle and other drugs, scattered on the shoulders.
No, I'm not against experimenting with the exterior. And banning is useless. In the case of a daughter who cuts herself off nothing more, the stories from my childhood turned out to be more effective - about lice, dancing, picking daisies and a poor widower, who scared us like a ghost or a granny. Well, an agreement with aliens who promised not to fly anymore.
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