Growing Bolder Community

When I was 15, I gave all new meaning to the term “bad hair day.” What I had was a bad hair extravaganza. I was halfway into my first year of high school, and I longed for a new look – I had no idea how much of one I was about to get . . . I wanted a home permanent and it was decided that my sister, who was 18, would give it to me. (Boy, did she.) The evening the perm was planned, mom and...