I was clutching the sides of a hair salon chair trying to maintain a hoveringabove the-sink pose, white curling rods holding every strand of my hair in place, when a horrible stench assaulted my nostrils. Did I pay extra for this? Yes, I did, when I made the dubious decision to try something different and go for a body wave. The process is long, laborious and exhausting … and the stylist must get tired, too.

There is one thing I just cannot wrap my previously tightly wrapped head around. I wish someone would explain how they can manufacture a deodorant to make my armpits smell like a freshly plucked peach but they can’t figure out how to cover up the repulsive odor of hair synthetics. Wouldn’t you be more willing to chance having a professional stylist twist your tufts around a piece of vinyl and pour cold chemicals all over your head (while you cover your eyes with a cloth and never speak of what would happen if that stuff permeated the barrier) if you didn’t have to hold your breath for the next 24 hours?

As for my decision to be a little daring, a permanent is – thankfully – not permanent. It’s not that I don’t like the new do. It’s just taking more time to get used to it than I expected. Reviews from outside sources are mixed, from “it’s adorable” to “it’s different.” Spouse is noncommittal, which is a smart move on his part.

It had been years since I went under the curling rod, and I didn’t remember how well my hair took to a wave last time. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if you have thin hair (or “fine” as the stylist so tactfully put it), as long as those Lucy Ricardo-esque chromosomes are in place. My locks took to that perm like it was their job, which it sort of was – but, oh boy, talk about taking a job seriously.

Because it came just a bit curlier than I had expected it to, I found myself committing the Cardinal Sin of Perms. I shampooed it less than 24 hours after having it done. I know all you stylists out there just shared one shocked gasp. Why would someone pay the price of having a body wave only to try and unwave it (or is it dewave) immediately after? Well, mainly because my hair isn’t waving so much as tidal waving.

To be fair, during the day I’ve settled into the new look and I’m learning to use bigger earrings and try brighter colors to go with my big head. Wait – that didn’t come out right. The point is that the morning is when I’m in for the real shock of this new look, before it has been tamed. I quickly learned upon waking up to avoid mirrors until I can get to a sink and hastily pat my spiraled strands down with water. It’s no coincidence that I’ve found myself humming songs from Broadway’s “Annie” when I step into the shower.

When I was a little girl my hair had that bouncy flouncy thing going on, sort of like Shirley Temple but without the star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. By the time I hit high school my questionably coiffed hair had shifted to a natural wave that occasionally rose to Roseanne Roseannadanna proportions on insufferably humid summer days. It will be interesting to say the least, to see what becomes of my curls when the temps soar. Fortunately, this is Maine so the soaring is somewhat limited.

Every day I find myself adapting a little more to this reshaping of my short tresses, but soon enough I’ll be once again back to the dilemma of what to do with my growing hair. Like I said, this isn’t permanent. And as we all know, the neutralizer will come out … tomorrow.

— Janine Talbot is adjusting to her empty nest in southern Maine with her spouse of 32 years and two and a half cats. She can be reached at janinevtalbot@gmail.com.