I have the finest, straightest hair you have ever seen. Seriously. I’m not exaggerating. When I was little I dreamt with curls. My cousin Rebeca had these incredible little “tirabuzones” on the nape of her neck, which I would spend hours playing with and longed for. Why? Why couldn’t I have those? Well, because I had my hair. My straight, fine, and uncurlable hair.
I got a hair cut a few days ago and the stylist offered to give me a wave, some sort of curl, she said. I said go for it, who knows, maybe she could do it. Maybe this time my hair would look different, because not matter what haircut I get, I feel like I always look the same.
But nope, she was a novice when it came to my hair and just put a little hair spray at the end. I knew it would not last. I need foam, mousse, product on my wet hair before blow drying. And then a hot curling iron for curling the dried hair, and THEN all the hairspray possible to make it stay put.
I looked like this when I stepped out of the chair at the salon:
And then like this, 5 minutes later, when I got home:
Alas, straight hair is in these days too, right?