Elvis. That was the name my oldest brother tagged me with. I'm not sure which (Costello or the king) it was in reference to but I suspect it had something to do with my hair grooming.
Much to my chagrin I was born into a family with parents who were staunch supporters of pixie cuts with short (the shorter the better) bangs.
While I admired the hair styles of my classmates and dreamed of the day when I would grow my hair out long enough to put it in a 'palm' I tried to work with resources at hand. I discovered that I could accomplish a rough version of my idealized hair style with vaseline -albeit quite a large amount. I slicked my hair straight back off my forehead and reveled in the results however short lived. My mother apparently objected to my extravagant use and the jar disappeared from the medicine cabinet. Foiled.
Alas another opportunity arrived at my doorstep when my mother made an appointment with a new neighborhood hair stylist-Charles. He wet my hair and slicked it back-just the way I liked it. He teased me further by cutting the back leaving only the bangs. It was perfect! He asked me how I liked it. I was thrilled! Finally I had found someone who shared my good taste in hair styling. I was a little worried that my parents would not like the style and make me go back but I figured if I stayed out of sight it would grow on them. Then in a flash it ended. He removed the clip holding the long bangs back and snipped.
I should have known they were all in on this conspiracy. I reassured myself there would come a day when they would let their guard down. Patience.
