my hair attacks me in the night
and it demands to be fed.
I don’t know why I never manage to get a good picture of my near mythic bedhead that I have been experiencing lately. Maybe I’m afraid of retaliation in my sleep. One day I won’t wake up because it will have strangled or smothered me.
this is my hair now:
nice and smooth and shiny with a hint of a curl on the edge. that is all trickery by the way. If it weren’t for the wonders of the ceramic curling iron my hair would need to be shaved.
I have so fried it from the vicious cycle of bleach and dye that once strong thick straight locks of hair now frizz and curl. And on top of that, it never dries on it’s own. It’s like some weird Ripley’s Believe it or Not oddity. But this (see above) is how the world sees my hair because of the magic of ceramic. no regular curling iron is capable of this. Only ceramic. stare in awe.
I know. You are dumbfounded.
