The many meanings of thread and other fads
In my dotage, I always thought of thread as a thin string slipped through the eye of a needle that enables one to sew on a button or mend a ripped seam. Fast forward a few decades, and thread in the plural denotes stylish attire. Segueing to the latest trend, thread lift involves facial rejuvenation resulting from needles injected below the skin line to fill in tissue. Ouch!
This latest Botox cousin brings to mind noninvasive, needle-free methods I embraced more than 60 years ago to tighten facial skin and use non-Clairol applications to add highlights to boring brown hair.
I cracked many an egg, separated the yolks from the whites, and then smeared the non-yolk glop on my face. As it dried, I felt the tightening. I was careful not to move and break the seal. Half an hour later, I washed away the transparent coating. I looked the same, but at my young age, wrinkles and crow’s-feet had yet to make their debut. BTW, my omelets were really yellow.
A friend swore by shampooing with beer to add shine and volume followed by rinsing with lemon juice to add highlights. I had no concept of diluting either so the regimen added not sheer, big hair and highlights but frizzy split ends.
After returning to my regular shampoo and trimming split ends, I was thankful my hair hadn’t fallen out and then vowed to tame wild strands.
Enter an iron, the kind to unwrinkle clothes, and an ironing board. Enlisting a friend’s help, I splayed my wet hair on the ironing board as the iron hissed steam to unravel unruly curls. Realizing the fix was temporary. I caved and got a pixie haircut. These days sophisticated tools to straighten hair warn not to use on damp hair. My bad.
Fads come and go. I’ve accepted my looks, such as they are. Soap and water get my face clean, not reinvented. As for shampoo, a cents-off coupon and cooperation of the supply chain dictate my purchase. I’ve adopted my mother’s mantra. I’ve earned these wrinkles and gray hairs. They chronicle the ups and downs of my life’s journey.
Patricia Misiuk is a Lakeland resident who, by choice, no longer owns an iron of any kind. You can reach her at SHOOK46@aol.com.
This article originally appeared on The Ledger: BTW: BY THE WAY
