The story goes something like this...
You are walking down the aisle at WalMart, blissfully unaware of the lollipop your child has stuck to your drooping left boob when you SPOT THEM. The pink foam calls to you. You are instantly transported back to the carefree days of youth. You remember waking up feeling like a fairy freakin' princess, all bouncy and light headed with rainbows and butterflies flitting about. Back then, sparkles were magic and hearing Daddy say "you are my little PRINCESS" meant that it MUST be truth.
Where was I...back to the pink foam curlers...
You stare at them for a few seconds, lost in thought (and standing in some foreign sticky substance...probably dripped sugar from the aforementioned sucker), and decide that the only thing holding you back from snatching this kind of magic up for your cherub daughter is the fact that they probably will cost you $15 bucks. What???!!! $2.99???!!! (Or some other ridiculously low price...I don't accurately remember. I was undeniably in a stupified fog.) "They're Mine!!!", you say. You proceed through the store, feeling like you are standing a bit taller, floating as if you are once again a princess. Oddly enough, people stare at you. It must be working. Buyer's remorse flees as you realize the power of beauty to bolster your self esteem. How WONDERFUL of a mother you MUST BE for getting this priceless gift for your daughter. (You'll realize later that they weren't really staring at YOU, but...rather...the swinging faux nipple piercing in a brilliant shade of banana.)
Back at home, some level of sanity returns as you realize that the curlers *may* be slightly too large for your pixie daughter's poor little head to sleep on.
Here is where BRILLIANCE at 11 pm enters the picture...
"Why don't I try out the curlers? I've been all inspired lately by all these cute movie stars with their loose curls. I know I'm a PUNK, but...maybe I could get away with some curls? Maybe?"
(Idiot.)
Here is what Monday morning looks like, post PINK CURLER DEATH ROLL.
(as I'm unrolling curlers...albeit with black bags under my eyes from rolling into the wee hours of the night...)
"I'm gonna look so CUUUUUUTE. What a way to start my MONDAY!!!! My hubby's gonna take one look at me and....."
*blink, blink*
"Oh, my DEAR LORD. Tell me I didn't.... And I have to leave in 5 minutes! Oh, oh, OOOOHHHH....!!!"
That's ok. Maybe it looks better from the side...
Ok, maybe not. This is bad. This is SO VERY BAD.
The top???? PUH-LEASE tell me the top layer is uniformly curly so at least it looks like I did this on purpose.
Is it too early to start drinking? Because......I'm thinking Monday morning at 8 am when I'm rounding the corner to 31 is about as good a time as any.
What if I just pin up the sides and all the curls come together at the back?? What does THAT look like? (fyi...that kind of optimistic questioning on a Monday morning can only lead to trouble...kind of like the line of questioning coming from a kindergartener that starts off something like this, "Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyy???? How mad would you be at me if I.......?" Really, it just won't end well.)
Well, I do have to say that my hair today is a true representation of me. I have a LOT going on on the top...a bit crazy, squirrelly, and goofy....a very (um...how shall we put it nicely without being mean to my God given motherly tummy-beauty) "soft and fluffy" middle....and the bottom is very "bouncy and keeps going long after I've stopped moving". Yep. That about covers it. Thankyouverymuch PINK FOAMY CURLERS for helping me create my artistic self-portrait. In my hair. Just in time to take Jeron off to school in (glancing at the clock....AAAAA!!!) 5 MORE SECONDS.
I quickly snagged a few of Aislynn's little claw barrettes off the counter and pinned my hair all willy nilly toward the back. Off on my errands I ran for the next 3 hours.Moral of the story: On a Monday morning, you might as well just lick a lollipop, stick it to your PRETTIEST boob (since you have the choice in the matter and people will be staring...best to put your best hoot forward...); than to tempt fate with the PINK CURLERS FROM HELL. Don't say I didn't warn you.
