Lice Check!

After a long week of Nutcracker performances, it was a relief to have a normal day. All the excitement of the Christmas season had finally ceased. I was ready for a regular school day. The constant running of dance recitals, Christmas celebrations, and New Year's parties had resulted in exhaustion like I had never experienced before. My legs were heavy as if they were tied to the floor. I dragged my feet through the halls and to my classroom. I dramatically plopped down into my seat and closed my eyes for a moment while my classmates ate their breakfast and chatted about their winter break.

With my face smooshed on the cold desk, I thought about my own break. Nutcracker season was always hectic, that was to be expected. The joy of being with all your friends, doing each other's hair and makeup, and the craziness of quick changes, having your best friend help you into an intricate costume backstage right before your cue was something we had gotten used to. Hair pieces getting mixed up, everyone's shoes getting thrown in a pile, sharing brushes and hair pins was a regular occurrence. Gots2B Glued extra hold hairspray, a staple for dance moms and 80s teenagers, was caked so thick into all our hair that it would take ten showers to fully remove. Mine still was not all washed out. I scratched my head.

At the time my hair was down to my waist. It was frizzy and fluffy. It was wild and untamable. At my roots it was crunchy and flakey from days of extensive overuse of goopy gels and sticky sprays. But I was not concerned about my scraggly mane, because all my friends looked the same way.

Breakfast was not even over when the principal gave a quiet knock on the door. Her keys jingled as her closed fist gently tapped and the frame. This was a rare occurrence; the principle never came by the classrooms unless it was an observance day. She motioned for the teacher to leave the room. They chatted for a moment then they both entered.

"It's come to our attention that a few students in the building have lice, so the school nurse and a few volunteers will be doing lice checks today," the principle announced.

Ew. Who has lice? I scratched my head. Man, this hairspray is starting to feel itchy.

I was called first. The nurse put the comb in my hair.

"Yep, just as I thought," she said, "Your break just got extended."

I was so embarrassed; All my classmates knew I had lice. Now my hair was tickly, not itchy. I knew there were creepy crawlies wandering on my head living the luxury of a little girl with too much gunk in her hair to notice they were building a whole buggy bug neighborhood. I cried walking to the front office. Everyone probably thought I was so icky. What would my friends think? But when I got to the office, I realized I wasn't the only one. All of us had lice! My friends were all there. We didn't know, but our ballet buns were bursting with bugs.

It was funny because our parents were called before they even checked us. When we opened the door to the car loop all the dance moms and my dad were already there. I got in the car and buckled up. I could tell he didn't know what to say. It was a quiet and awkward car ride, but I couldn't help giggling at the thought of lice dancing in a ballet recital. He drove me all the way to my Nanny's house; she was also a school nurse, so she knew what to do. She had an array of thin toothed combs and bottles of chemicals. I did not know it yet, but she also had hair scissors, just in case.

We greased my hair with bug killing conditioner. The toxic smell of chemicals made my nose sting. She combed through each section of hair removing gunk, bugs, and eggs. But it was impossible to pull the comb all the way through my tangly mane.

Snip! Snip! Snip! The lion was tamed. My Nanny was not a hairdresser. My new style was a bob cut straight from ear to ear. It was a terrible sight. It took two more days to rid my hair of the infestation. I spent two more months with strong, citrus-scented, lice preventative shampoo.

The dance company gave the whole studio a lecture about things that you can share, and things you cannot. But dancers will be dancers and sharing can't be stopped.