I guess I'll start this off by saying that I'm attached to my hair care products. I'm not saying that vainly (with my hair, you kind of can't afford to be), just as a female teenager with a wish to be perceived as relatively nice-looking. My hair is (warning: useless personal info up ahead; buckle your seat belts and prepare for the boredom turbulence) naturally wavy and frizzy, which, in the Texas humidity, is a walking nightmare. My hair practically comes alive when I don't actively contain it. In the mornings, I look like the love child of Hermione Granger and Sasquatch (which is scary, let me tell you).
So I heavily lean on my nice little collection of hair care products, including the most important: my hair straightener. With it, my hair is just moderately frizzy, and not leaning on the 'fro side of hair volume. But, (and here is where tragedy strikes; grab your tissues, girls) this morning, as I was happily giving my hair the daily taming, I heard a disheartening clunck noise--I looked down at my trusty pink straightener (whose name is Harry) to see that the red power light had been switched off. Confused, I pushed the two blades together and then out of nowhere, tendrils--literally, they were tendrils--of smoke curled out from the motor.
Quickly, I unplugged Harry and dropped him, and that's when I made the devastating find--Harry, my three-year-old, trusty, wonderful, amazing hair straightener, who had stood by me when I was awkward and pimply and had a mouth full of metal, who had never left my side when I was sad or angry or frustrated, who never judged me when I sang Disney songs while using him as a microphone... was dead.
I was understandably distraught.
So, to commemorate the awesome hair straightener that he was, I decided to give him a funeral. A proper one (as proper as one can give an inanimate object). I made a headstone (albeit, out of construction paper and sharpie), laid him down gently and quietly in the trash can, and covered him with a paper towel.
He's never looked more at peace.
Maybe some background information on Harry is in order (if you haven't been scared off yet, that is). Harry was a pink straightener. He was gay (he never did show an interest in my female appliances, like Gina the hair dryer), and was pretty old and well-used when he died (three years is like seventy in appliance-years). He will be sorely missed.
But, on the bright side, I got a new hair straightener! Gemini, the sassy black woman. This'll be fun.
(Yes, I name all of my inanimate objects. My mini-mannequin is Tabitha, my giant stuffed-animal-dog is Aspen, my masquerade mask is Charlotte... must I go on?)
Question Time!
To answer Jovi's question: If I could have an unlimited supply of only one material on a desert island... I would have... hmm...
Well, I know the practical answer here is food or water, since I wouldn't want to, you know, die, or anything. But the practical answer is never the fun answer. So, I'm going to have to go with... an unlimited supply of books. That would keep my entertained, informed, and... um... I just like books, okay? I would die of boredom before my food supply ran out if I had nothing to read. BOOKS GALORE.
My question is this: If you could talk to your walls, what do you think they'd say?
Well, that's all. Remember, keep Harry The Gay Hair Straightener in your thoughts, y'all!
~Lindsay
