Beauty School Drop-Out

So there I was.... oh, alright, so that's not me. It's Mia Farrow, but my hair looked a bit like this back during 1980-1985. I had more layering at the top though. I would wash, dry and curl it a few times a week, high maintenance chick that I was back then. We all have things in life that are high priority and I guess you could say in those days that my priority while getting dressed for work each morning was my hair.



This was the all-important tool of the day. The infamous curling iron with brush like prongs that would grab my bee yoo tee ful locks as I pulled it ever so lightly up the length of my hair, let it wind around and with heat place ever so lovely smooth curls out of my over permed and over processed hair. In those days you abused it into doing what you wanted it to do.

So, one morning as I curled me locks I somehow got the darned implement stuck. The hair had wound both ways around the curler and refused to come out. I must have struggled with it for a solid 10 minutes only to have it wind tighter....even a phone call to a friend who was a hairdresser proved fruitless. She suggested squeezing hair conditioner on it so the hair would slide off, but that didn't do the trick either. Now it was a slick, gooey, snarled knot wound around a curling iron on top of my head.


Plan B: Call closest hair salon and make appointment as soon as they open their doors to have implement removed from top of head. (laughing ensues on other end of phone but appt. was made)

I knew I would look like the idiot that I was while driving down the streets of Tempe, Arizona, one hand on the wheel and the other on the curling iron which if I let it go would probably snap the ends of my hair off at the scalp, so I attempted to hide the stupidity of the situation under a lovely hat with an electrical cord hanging down the side of my face. OMG.... also had to call my boss and explain that I could not come to work for a couple of hours because I had an emergency hair appointment. Surely he would understand, erm... no? What's not to understand when an employee calls you and says she has a curling iron stuck to her head and that she's driving down the road at the moment in morning rush hour traffic and will call you back later to explain in detail??


By the time I arrived at the office I looked just a tad different than when I had left the prior afternoon.

Oh, and I took the curling iron along as evidence to the boss that I was not a liar or one of those employees who makes up totally off the wall excuses as to why they will be late for work.

Maybe I should have just coughed into the phone and pretended to be sick.