I’ve been obsessively checking my horoscope trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my life because things just keep going soo so wrong. You can’t even make this shit up. So yesterday afternoon I was all upset because my hair stylist was on vacation & I needed to get a blowout but I thought to myself “you subscribe to goop, you can do this”. Turns out I absolutely could not do this! I got out of the shower, applied my makeup (going for a dark smokey eye at this point) & did what any other girl in my situation would do, I googled “how to get a perfect blowout at home”. I ran all over my house collecting supplies & then I got to work. I’m in my bra & underwear, dancing around my bathroom doing my hair, when I get to step 12. Motherfucking step 12. I took a thick chunk of hair at the crown of my head & twisted it around a round brush, gave the roots a quick puff from underneath & began to pull the brush through my hair. Except it wouldn’t fucking budge. The brush was stuck in my hair. Obviously, I panicked & started pulling the brush every which way to free my hair, didn’t work. I did the next best thing I could think of. I called my mom in absolute hysterics & made her come over immediately. I think she thought someone had died but at least she got there really fast. We got my hair stylist on the phone, who happened to be sitting in the lounge at Miami International &, thank god, had time to talk. She prepared me for the worst case scenario, assured me that she had some of my leftover extensions at the salon & then talked my mom through what to do. Then, as my mom stood there, pouring olive oil onto my head while I bawled my eyes out in my kitchen (that perfect smokey eye was now two very black eyes), guess who walked in? Yep, you got it. My boyfriend. At first he was concerned, but as soon as he put together what had happened he went from wiping my tears to laughing & sending his friends snapchat videos. To make matters worse, we were late for shabbat dinner & I was in so much paint that I couldn’t go on any longer. Once my mom finally got the brush out of my hair (TWO HOURS LATER), we put the giant mess in an olive oil soaked pony tail & off I went to Shaun’s. I had to sit through dinner with his entire family with an olive oil ponytail!! The stress of that situation, coupled with the pain I was in, the wine I was drinking & the shouting at the dinner table, turned into a full blown panic attack & I had to go upstairs & sit in his moms bed while she brushed my hair out & fed me tequila shots to calm me down. Thankfully, we didn’t have to cut any of my hair but my head still hurts today & there was no way in hell I could go out last night. So lesson learned, I will never ever attempt to style my own hair again.
I should probably add that I’m pretty sure I brought this upon myself because the night before I was checking myself out in the mirror & bragging about how long my hair had gotten & how I probably wouldn’t have to get hair extensions that summer. Karma bitches