It’s time. Let’s do this.
As I’ve mentioned previously, I was blessed at birth with a luxuriously full head of Great Pyrenees-like hair. Or, rather, I was born with a sprinkling of hair that fell out promptly, leaving me completely bald for my first year of life. If only I’d known then what I know now, I would have appreciated that bald head. I’d have appreciated the hell out of it. However, then, once my hair grew back, I was blessed with a luxuriously full head of hair.
Below, you can see me at the tender age of five, kissing a steer on my grandparents’ farm.
If you can tear your eyes away from the handsome steer (I obviously couldn’t), you might notice my hair–thick but fine, sleek, swingy . . . and then a few years passed, and my poor young body and hair follicles were attacked by those two bitches, estrogen and progesterone. And this happened:
You can see the problem.
So, in college, I cut most of it off.
And then I cut more of it off.
I think you can tell by the Albert Einstein poster hanging on the wall behind me in the above picture that I was, perhaps, overly sure of myself and my place in the world, which is, perhaps, why I felt comfortable requesting a haircut that would turn out to be exactly like Jim’s haircut on The Office.
So, several more years passed (like, 10 years–I’m a late bloomer), and I finally discovered the joys of a professional-grade hair straightening iron. I made this discovery when I ordered a $7 bottle of hair color corrector from a hair care supply company, and they sent me a $120 hair straightening iron, instead. :andIkeptit:
Obviously, this was horrible and wrong (even though it felt so right), but I didn’t, at first, intend to keep it. I DID intend to try it before sending it back, which was wrong, also, but the siren song of straight, silky tresses was too strong for me to resist. Some people find it hard to resist the gummy, cracked glass of a germ-infested crack pipe; I found it hard to resist the opportunity to have straight, smooth hair.
Someone (i.e., my mother) probably has a picture of me from that glorious time, but I don’t. And, really, a hair straightening iron is only as good as the person’s haircut allows it to be, and I had HORRIBLE haircuts–HORRIBLE–for most of my life, until right after Ted was born, and I found Carly. I went from this hair (while pregnant):
To this hair, two months later:
You’ll have to excuse the cheesy nature of the above post-haircut selfie; I’d never had such straight and silky hair before, and I was still full of baby hormones that made me very emotional about things like haircuts. And bologna.
So, when I first started going to Carly, she used that most popular of hair straightening irons, the Chi hair straightening iron, pictured below:
The hair straightening iron I had been “borrowing” for a few years at that point was NOT a Chi, but I decided to buy a Chi after visiting Carly a few times because it just did a better job. Ceramic plates work better than stainless steel plates on straightening irons, in my opinion. I could discuss how wonderful the Chi is, but I think it would be more effective if I illustrated my point with pictures, instead.
(If my hair in the picture above reminds you of Gossamer from the Looney Tunes cartoons, well, then, I consider that a compliment.)
Lots of people I know continue to buy the hair straightening irons they can find at places like Wal-Mart or Target for $20. Let me emphasize this point as strongly as I can: they do. not. work. They don’t work! If you, like me, have enthusiastic hair, I encourage you to save your pennies until you can afford to purchase a Chi or one of the other professional-grade straightening irons. You won’t be mistaken for a Bugs Bunny character, anymore, which is disappointing, but you WILL be able to go outside when the relative humidity is above 15 percent. Life is about compromise, people. And stealing hair straightening irons.