Bad Hair Day

This week I had to wake up early and actually put some effort into my appearance for two separate events.

Now, I usually wear suits to work as well as a fair amount (read: over the top volume) of costume jewelry, nice shoes and some makeup, but my hair is almost always un desastre. We’re talking sad pony tail or shaggy dog coif.

Except many horses and dogs are probably better groomed.

And with the discovery of this miracle product, I briefly considered never washing my hair again:


You’ve Gotta Get This

“Putting in effort” for my hair means not only jumping in the shower and washing said hair, but then taking time to put two different products in it, blow dry it, round brush the ends, quickly run a straightener through it and top it with a cloud of ozone-destroying hair spray.

I think it turned out okay. At least the front, because I never checked the back.

I can’t even remember the last time I looked at the back of my head. Once after divorcing a particularly bad hair stylist, the new girl I saw informed me that I had a huge chunk of hair whacked out of the back of my head. I’d probably been walking around like that for months. In retrospect, Bad Stylist #1 did talk about drinking a lot, but overall I thought I was a better tipper than that.

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