A Pressing Comb Saved Me From H-e-l-l (A Short Remember When)
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Sizzle, pop. The smell of hot hair grease and Grandma’s pressing comb. “Oww!” I cried. I was busy trying to hold my ear and fend off the heat of that pressing comb and the hot grease that was dripping on my neck. “Oww, Grandma,” I continued. But Grandma was not going to be deterred from her mission of taming my hair. The one sure fire way to tame my wild mane was through grease and heat. Grandma believed the hotter the better. I would pray every second that Saturday somehow that comb would come up missing. I did not have the nerve to hide it.
In this short "remember when", Jackie reflects on her experience with hair pressing and the life-changing expereince of hot grease and smoking hot pressing combs; A humorous short-story, for those of you who recall the red coils of the hot plate, the silver-top red can of grease, and grabbing your ears.