Once upon a time, mi madre introduced me to a curling iron. I assumed it into my possession and wore my hair curled every single day. I loved it, it was my thing, therapeutic in a way. But because it was too much slaving away to actually curl it every day, she also introduced me to a satin pillowcase so that my curls would slide around on it overnight instead of getting messed up on a cotton pillowcase, and I wouldn't have to wash and redo the whole thing again in the morning. Princess treatment back in the day.
Now I still enjoy curling my hair, but I realized it's really not necessary to do that often, so I just blow dry it and forget about it most of the time. I still use the satin pillowcase (who would forfeit a thing like that?), but clearly a curse has been put upon me, because it doesn't do its job anymore. And I wake up with cowlicks everywhere.
I used to consider big-cowlick-days bad hair days, but now I'm so used to them that cowlick days just 'hair days.' Definitely not good, but since I was blessed with the inability to see the back of my head, not particularly bad to me. Today, like many days, I had a hair day. So I did this:
|target flannel shirt, free people sweater, citizens of humanity jeans, j.crew boots|
And afterwards it looked like this:
Not too shabby, eh? I look completely unhappy, but I'm not sure why 'cause today was a fine day. Disregard my face and just focus on my hair. Normally I would tell you the opposite, so take advantage of the opportunity at hand (at hair).
Above is another creation of Aunt Kim's, isn't it cool? It's wood, in case you couldn't tell.
My posture is just screaming some sort of cheesy down home phrase, so I might as well just give you one...
Thanks for visitin' us down at the woods, y'all, come back again real soon now!