As a child, Saturday nights always meant hairwashing and setting. After a bath, I would towel dry my hair and sit at Mom's feet, on the floor. There, I would endure the combing out of the snarls, and I remember 'singing' quite loudly at times, when a stubborn knot was being untangled.
Following the detangling, I would sit for a little while longer while strands of hair would be would around Mom's finger, and clipped in place against my head. Row after row of pin curls would be placed from my left temple around to the right side, until at last they were finished at the nape of my neck. Then, off I'd go to spend the night, sleeping on bobby pins or clips. I don't believe I could put up with sleeping on those things today, as I'm a fitful sleeper these days, but somehow, I was fine with it when I was much younger.
In the morning, we'd pull all of the pins out of my wound hair, and brush the dickens out of it. Eventually, we'd get control of those wild curls, and I'd go off to Sunday School with a shiny head of flipped up curls.
A few years later, when I was a teenager, I learned to set my own hair with rollers. They gave my fine hair the fullness I desired, especially when I backcombed it a bit in a method called 'teasing.' 'Tormenting' would have been a more appropriate word for that procedure, as it caused split ends and broken strands, but it was the 'fad' of that time, so I did it too.
Before long, I decided that I'd like to be a hairdresser after high school, and began my practice on other people. I'll share more on that at another time.
