flat iron no more

 

The last morning of our Sisters Trip 2013 I did not go to breakfast with my sisters. I opted for some fruit we'd picked up and stayed behind to work on my hair. I had forgotten what the humidity in Louisiana and Mississippi do to my fine, kind hair. I knew there'd be more than a few pictures taken on this, our last day and I wanted to look presentable so as not to shame my siblings.
I asked the middle sister to leave her flat iron plugged up for me.
I was determined to conquer the flat iron or my hair or both.The girl that does my hair makes it look so easy. My sisters, my daughter, my nieces, all make it look easy. For me, it is not easy.
Sitting at the vanity table of our room, without even a cup of coffee to calm and comfort me, I took on both my hair and that flat iron. And I lost. miserably.
I would have opted for old school hot rollers but they were all packed somewhere. Some of the luggage had already been stowed in the car.
Right then and right there, sitting at that vanity table, I had a ephiphany.
It went something like this:
I said to myself, "Self, you do not have the hair nor the patience to use a flat iron. The end. Stop trying."
So, there you have it! No more burn marks on my forehead. No more singed bangs. No more mornings spent fighting with the confounded contraption. No more.