A few weeks ago I was visiting my good friend Esther. It was earlyish in the morning and I apologized for having such awful hair because I hadn’t done it at all that morning. She assured me it “looked totally normal” which really meant that all my other attempts to control my hair are totally futile.
I would like to pretend that the hair I leave the house with is the hair that I put no effort into, the hair that I wake up with, the hair that dries like that after I shower, because really then I would have a good reason for it. But the truth of the matter is that although the hair I often leave the house with hair that looks like I just rolled out of bed, chances are pretty high that I have spent a considerable amount of time trying to make it behave, usually involving a burning myself with an ultra hot flat iron.
I think it’s fair to say that if you see me and my hair looks pretty awful but at least doesn’t look like this, you’re welcome.