Last night, I accidentally fell upon this video. A 12 minute, step-by-step tutorial on how to get your hair to do this amazing thing of beauty and joy forever:
I mean, have you ever seen such a poof?!?
(And let's please try to forget about the fact that it might be nice to be blond, skinny and work a pink top like that. Moving on.)
Now, while that might be just a wee bit more poof than I'm comfortable with, I think she rocks it, and this whole thing has fanned aflame in my heart my intense love of hair.
I really like messing with hair.
I wanted to go to beauty school.
My bangs miss the 80's.
I study everyone's hair.
I ask annoying and numerous questions in the presence of any hair care professional.
And if you know me, you know that I also really enjoy a good challenge.
Challenge: The Poof
Culprit: My Poor Hair
Contender: Girl With Too Much Time On Her Hands
The Fine Print: while I do have naturally curly hair, I straighten it. And when I straighten it, it forgets it was ever curly and acts like fine, straight hair...with an attitude. I also never, ever use hairspray. I think my hair went into shock today. That's all I know to say.
I did everything she said to do. I divided my hair into sections at the crown, sprayed, then teased. Oh, how I teased.
Well, you may need a bucket or a lined trash can but here you are.
The things I do for you.
There is not one molecule of makeup on my face.
I never let people see my real face.
I am also still wearing my pajamas.
Now go back to your freak show.
Raked through and tied down....
please note the lack of poof.
So, in reflecting on this valuable experience, I think the moral of the story is 2-fold.
1. I need to find something else to do during the boy's naptime.
2. The art of "Poofing" should be left to the Alabama pageant girls.
Here's to hoping your hair adventures show up on your blog too. :)