Strange Little Hair Machine*

I am terrible at getting my picture taken. There's no relaxing, there's no looking natural. There were about 5 or 6 years in my twenties when I didn't let people take my photo. "I don't like having my photo taken," I'd say. And they'd say "Oh heck, nobody likes having their photo taken." And I would say "Don't take my picture."

But it's 10 years later and there's digital cameras and the internet. And nice people with a good eye and fancy equipment who are willing to come to your house and take very many After Foxification pictures for the low low fee of one chocolate chip banana loaf. They will do it and be kind even if you can't relax while the camera is on because although you no longer hate having your picture taken, you are still trying to like it.

Before Charles and Amanda came over to snap and entertain me respectively, I went over to Jennifer's to do my hair.

Let me back up here. I am a putz when it comes to this kind of girly stuff. The 80s were not a kind decade to girls with bone straight hair. They were a decade of curling iron burns and hair sizzled from cheap, crappy crimpers. And then the 90s were a decade of grunge and coming out. I can't remember the last time I owned a hair dryer, but I do remember that I got it for Christmas when I was still living at my parent's house, which was, suffice it to say, a long long time ago. I hadn't worn make up more than once a year for nigh on a decade. Until 4 months ago, my black eyeliner was the same vintage as the lost hair dryer.

This year, that's changed. I seem to have turned back into the kind of person who needs Product. Which leads me to standing in Jennifer's bathroom while she patiently instructed me.

"It heats up fast, so it's probably ready now."
"Okay."

I stood there, watching the flat iron getting stealthily hotter. I hadn't realized how nervous I would be about putting something that hot near my face for the first time since 1989. But the heat pads were well protected, and I was not curling my bangs into a thick roll.

"Here, I'll show you on me. You spray the stuff on like this, and then with the iron, start here, like this."

She handed it over. I bucked up, sprayed on the stuff, ironed my hair. And it really was pretty amazing. I mean, I always thought of my hair as straight. I've got a cowlick over my right eye, and a bit of a curl on the back left side. Turns out I didn't know from straight.

"Look at that! It's straight! Really straight! It took 3 mintues! It's like a miracle!"
"It's a strange little hair machine, alright."

It was lovely to have a visit with Charles and Amanda. Charles posed me and tried to get me to relax, Amanda told me interesting stories about writers. We drank tea and ate loaf. A fine night of helpful friends.

*Should this not be the title of a Pixies song?