I conquered my frizzy hair…and other cool stuff that happened last weekend.

Post date: Apr 20, 2012 7:25:11 PM

Let me say this, my tale will not be as cool as the one written by Becky. It won’t even be part of a 3 part series. And while I was stoked about the Band Back Together 2013 calendar, I needed not risk life and limb for it. I just needed to conquer my hair. I needed it straight. A task more difficult than…insert your favorite witty analogy here.

My hair. In first grade it was straight-as-a-board straight. Then came puberty some years later and the curls came with. Then came pregnancy and the curls took on a life of their own.

See what Natalie has to look forward to? Poor girl is showing signs of it already.

From time to time I do straighten it. But that takes work. And time. And a hair dryer, a curling iron with a 1 ½ inch barrel, and a straightening iron, and lots and lots of smoothing serum. And frankly, it doesn’t always stay – humidity and wind in Northern Illinois screwing with my hair.

And so, I took a shower. I blow dried it. That alone took 15 minutes. I slathered on the Redken Rewind* and pulled it through the iron. Then I went to church with the family. My hair was rocking. And my eyes may have been a bit too smoky for church, but it was what it was.

After church, I redid the process – this time pulling through with the straightening iron followed by the 1 ½ inch barreled curing iron. And it looked good. It was strait.

I looked up at the cloudy sky and prayed that the rain would stay away. At least until after I got my pretty pictures taken.

I got to my photographer’s house. She was ready for me.

I smiled. I haven’t had pictures taken of just me since the fall of 1994, when I was a senior in high school.

It was surreal. I felt pretty. I felt like me. I wasn’t just Natalie’s mom. I wasn’t just the liver donor. I wasn’t me + 70 pounds. I was just me.

And then Natalie joined me for some of the pictures.

She took this one of me on our way to the shoot (we were being silly):

*They don’t know me. They don’t pay me.