I am notoriously woeful when it comes to hair. My hair is my bane. It has no chutzpah. It's non-compliant and willfully disobedient.
Also, I'm lazy.
I find haircuts to be a waste of both time and money.
As such, my hair has recently reached a catastrophic length.
It should not be so long.
My bangs are down to my bosoms.
It's a bad, bad situation.
Given all of this, it's both strange and wonderful that I invented a new hairdo when it mattered most. I look back and have no explanation. It just came to me.
(Photo courtesy of Haven.)
At first, it looks like this. Is this a real thing?
I'm troubled to say that my mother-in-law has arrived twice in the past two weeks only to find me in this condition. Even worse? She didn't ask.
To execute the style, wash your mane. Rub one smallish dollop of this through, concentrating on the roots. Blow dry your hair (95% dry), then immediately section it off. Twist each section. Twist, twist, twist. Then pin the ends to your noggin.
Walk around the house like that for the next hour or four. Wonder why even your own children no long ask questions or notice that anything is remotely amiss. Say things like, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, Calvin", or, "Haven, you know you're jealous."
Channel Princess Leia. Then La La from the Teletubbies.
Incidentally, I just bought a new mascara. It's one of the kinds that has a secret chemical intended to make your lashes grow. I'm happy to report that the placebo effect is already heartily underway. I can just feel my lashes shooting up steroids.
Run your fingers through it a little. You might be alarmed by the sheer size of your hair, but push through.
Spray just the tiniest, slightest bit with hairspray. (The waves, they like to breath.)
Or, as I prefer, Viola.
You've got a real 'do. At least for the night.
I can't promise that it will work for hair that is not extremely fine and thin and frayed at the edges. But you know what? All of you thick, luxuriously-tressed ladies have it coming if it doesn't work. We've had enough of your sass. Half-bald homies, unite! We've waited so long for our victory.
Sidenote 1) Something very important that I keep forgetting to tell you: The bathroom in our rental sports the very same wallpaper from my childhood bedroom. #fullcircle #meanttobe #hollyhobbyholdsmyheart
Sidenote 2) I have recently adopted what some may consider the annoying practice of hash-tagging outside of Twitter. #whatchagonnadoaboutit? #thegaff
Sidenote 3) Yes, I do ask Cory to take random pictures of my hair when we're already running late for his work Christmas party. I do procrastinate until I have precisely 12 minutes to get myself ready then shout from the bathroom "Honey, hurry! I need a picture before I fluff my waves!" Yes, it is magnificently fun to be married to me. Why do you ask?
Sidenote 4) You may have noticed, but I have given up on staging proper photos for this here blog. We live in a cave with no natural light and pink bathroom tiles. It has killed my mojo. Or at least partially maimed it.
Sidenote 5) My lovely lady, El-Macphereson-Camino-Mariachi Palmer blogged about the well today! Eeek. I cried. We're at 73%, People! Seventy. Three. Percent. God is so BIG.