In the 80’s, I was always paranoid about looking ‘perfect’ at all times.
I would wake up in the morning, sneak out of bed before everybody else, and elaborately fix my hair, put on some make-up (lipstick too) and then climb back in bed.
When the boy/man I was trying to impress, finally woke up and noticed me, he was always amazed at how spectacular and wide-eyed sexy I always looked.
I would give him my sparkly fresh, clean-toothed smile and he would immediately produce this 'interested-in-me', growling sound, deep inside his chest.
Without warning, he would suddenly entwine his hands inside my hair, in order to pull my head back, for a deep, passionate kiss.
Then horror of all horrors... his hands would become trapped in my hair!
Then horror of all horrors... his hands would become trapped in my hair!
How was he to know, that just moments before I had climbed back into bed, I had sprayed extra-hold, hair spray, all over my perfectly coifed hair!
He would immediately start coughing from being so close to the hair spray fumes... and that passionate spontaneity I was hoping for... was completely lost, somewhere, within the confines of my helmet-headed hair.
