It’s that time of year again! Summer!
And while many of my friends… and yeah, me too, are realizing that last year’s shorts don’t fit, or that our bodies are not quite swimsuit ready despite that workout routine we started in March (ok, fine, April)…. it is also time for my yearly “what the heck is wrong with my hair” anxiety attack.
See, I don’t do much with my hair. In fact… I am not sure you can call what I do, *doing* at all.
I wash it. I brush it. And then I put it up in a pony tail that is often tucked into itself… and then I ignore it.
|Living dangerously… hair down!|
Until summer. For some reason that is the season when I start to wonder if I should cut it… or, even more daring, learn to style it.
It is like clockwork.
Last year I bought a curling iron. The year before, curlers. They gather dust under the sink. I think a family of dust bunnies lives there now.
And yeah, there have been plenty of years where I have died it, or fried it, or teased it… or chopped it… all part of me angerly bemoaning my utter lack of skills.
Not this year!
This year I am going to find a style and then come hell or high water, I am going to learn how to make MY hair look like THAT hair.
(I’m an optimist)
I evicted the dust bunnies.
I dusted off the curling iron.
I plugged in the heated curlers.
I googled and gossiped and took notes when my friends gave me info.
I curled and teased. Moose-d and sprayed. Brushed. Brushed some more. And yes, burnt my fingers.
It took FOREVER
The results were… ok…
|Part “done” part “electrical socket” … quick show off cleavage so no one will notice!|
I accepted defeat / my own inherent laziness / general apathy
I put it back up in a pony tail or sometimes down under a hat (WILD)… and accepted, for another year at least, my hair limitations.