A month or so ago, I thought it would be fun and kicky to use this tool to crimp my hair.
I crimped my hair back and forth....I crimped my hair back and forth.
One day I was crimping away while talking with my friend (and hairdresser) on the phone. (I was getting quite skilled at the crimping.) When I told my friend what I was doing with the crimper (which has the heat of a thousand imploding fiery suns) there was a pause in the conversation. She asked if I was using a heat protectent, or something like that, to protect my hair.
To do what?
I considered lying.
On top of my head you will see all the fried, split, broken hair that used to be long, healthy locks. This apparently was caused by carelessly crimping without using some protective product.
Walk away from the crimper, people. Just walk away.
Please don't be alarmed the large purple curlers. My horses, dogs and goats are not. Neither is my mailman. (My husband does his best not to gasp, but one escapes occasionally when I startle him)
This is a picture of a woman who has no vanity.
Not a scrap of pride. Because she crimped her hair to death.
Next week, I'll post a picture of my muffin top.
Or maybe a picture of my toenails which still have the peeling remnants of pink nail polish from that pedicure I had back in July.
Back when I cared.
Have a great day.