June 3, 2011
I avoid holding conversations with most people I know, but will go out of my way to talk to complete strangers.
That's one of the things that my husband likes best about me.
Last week, I went up to a young woman at Target who had particularly attractive locks and asked her how she got them that way. The woman-child looked at me like I was her mother. "I used something called a curling iron," she said flatly.
Fortunately, I have heard of those. Unfortunately, I haven't used one since the sixth grade.
I wanted to buy all the curling irons at Wal Mart, but my husband suggested that I just start with one. Of course, I chose the one that made me look like Little Orphan Annie.
"How am I supposed to know these things?" I hissed.
When I was growing up, I skipped a few stages of development. "Hair and Makeup" is the most noticeable.
What I need is a personal stylist. Or a sister who is an aspiring Gap model. I have one of the latter, but the last time I talked to her, she suggested that I wear dress pants and a silk blouse to the grocery store. "You'll feel so much better about yourself," she promised.
Needless to say, I haven't spoken to that sister in awhile.
A few hours ago, I returned to Wal Mart to look at the curling irons. I intended to buy one with a bigger barrel, but in the end, I brought home something that is guaranteed to make me feel like the opposite of a Gap model:
I'll let you know how it goes.