It's not looking good.

A few weeks ago, one side of my flat iron died, rendering the whole appliance useless.  And my world a BIG, FAT, FUZZY MESS.

I don't think you understand.  I am being held captive in a humid cave by what I believe are the evil cousins of Hungry: Thick, Coarse and Unruly.  And I have had little success with ways to disguise my suffering.

After watching the Oscars last weekend, I thought perhaps my hair is in.

 Maybe it's cool to stay with the half-pulled ponies (a la Ms. Watt, my faaaaavourite math teacher in high school), with the added baby hair mane flying freely along my entire hairline.  (Can't pull the ponytail all the way out, or BAMM - ugly cotton candy thing following my head all day)

I have decided that NO it is not cool.  I spent the majority of my life with my hair pulled back.  So, in the last year or so, I decided to be a little more grown up and wear my hear down more often (time permitting).  My little ol' iron, purchased for $40US in 2006, made me the woman I was two weeks ago.  And now it's gone.  And it costs a lo-ot these days to replace it with something I can trust.  But when your front door deadbolt breaks, your 12 year-old daughter outgrows her pink-tassled Barbie bike, and another soccer season is around the corner (ie. registration fees are due soon), you need to start thinking of better ways to make the mop look deliberate for just a few weeks longer, while you save up for that worthy replacement.  (I've even recently taken the bun off the Do Not 'Do list {did you see the high school reunion episode of King of Queens?} out of desperation.)

Because, too, when your Hubby is bald, he just won't understand that the $149 one will undoubtedly make you a better woman than the $25.99 one.

In the meantime here I am, waiting.  And tying back.