I have always loved the rain, to me it feels like a new beginning.
Growing up on the Highveld you can see the rain “rolling” in long before it actually starts. The air is fraught with the anticipation, the thunder, the crisp smell of the pending downpour, and then the smell of the soil right after the first drops fall, it is, in one word, magical.
I have never been inclined to blame my bad mood on the weather till I moved to Cape Town. Let me explain.
See I have always had bone straight blonde hair. I was, while living at home, one of those lucky girls that never had the need of a straightening iron-in fact I confess I had no idea what it was. But then, I moved to Cape Town, and got acquainted with hair that ‘mince’ at the slightest indication of precipitation… leaving me with a distinct air of-well for the lack of a better word– poodleness.
There, I have said it, I suffer from poodleness.
What brings me to this revelation you ask?
Well honestly I am hoping you all will take pity on me and start a get-her-a-GHD-fund, but actually, I cut my hair yesterday, and my new bestie, Roy convinced me that rather than taking it all off like I was planning to do, to go with a timeless bob. Oh it was wonderful, it looked chic, stylish and like he said, timeless. BUT. Enter the rain/shower/someone’s sneeze. Now I just look.fuzzy.
Why is it that we are never able to recreate the style that the gods of the tresses dupe us into believing are so effortless? Half and hour with what I thought was a good iron this morning and still I am nowhere close to the beauty that was Roy’s creation. In fact it was so bad that the husband, who moments before were unable to spot a stain on his trousers a mere minute before, was able to tell me that something (in his words) was “not quite right”. So much for my ‘big-style-her-fabulous-type-reveal” at work…
Ahh Curse you Wet Weather, I say as I grab my hat and get ready to head out the door.