Enough of the serious stuff. Let’s get down to what you really come here to read about – my hair.
Me wielding a round brush and blow dryer to shape my hair would be as effectual as someone handing me a sword and asking me to defend my family from the invading Visigoths. My hairs, like my family members, would all lie down in a pathetic, defeated lump. Dead. All dead. No life remaining.
However, thanks to the help of Karli (a real, outfit-wearing, hair-fixing, girl-type person), loads of styling ‘product’ and a lady I don’t know who works at the local self-storage/shipping place, I think we have the mullet under control. It doesn’t even look that bad.
Walking into her little store, I asked the lady, “You are a stranger so you don’t have to be nice. Tell me honestly, does my hair look like a mullet to you?” She laughed and said, “No.”
“Seriously,” I said. “I know it’s not a full-blown mullet, but don’t you think it’s a little bit over the edge towards the mullet side of the hair spectrum? I promise I won’t get mad.”
She examined my hair and concluded that all I needed to do was to curl it with a big-barreled curling iron. Sounded easy enough.
Karli was more ambitious. She came over with root lifter, spray gel, a round brush and blow dryer. When she was done, it looked pretty good.
I did not wash said hair for fully 48 hours, afraid that it would combust into an incendiary display of mulletude upon air-drying.
Yesterday morning I got brave and decided to try it myself, take an actual shower, and do a cross between Karli’s wizardry and shop-lady’s suggestion. I applied the product to my roots. I blew it dry with my head hanging upside down.
Then came the part where I was going to curl it. This was easier said than done since every piece of hair on my head is now a different length than the ones next to it.
Laylee: What are you doing?
Me: Curling my hair.
Laylee: Are you curling your hair?
Me: Yep. Not very well.
Laylee: You’re curling your hair?
Laylee: You’re not doing a very good job.
But it ended up looking good and now I’m embarrassed to post the pictures because they don’t look like a mullet at all.
The front view:
The good news for you mullet-hungry readers out there is that I will not be willing to spend 40 MINUTES EVERY DAY to achieve this look, so next time I get out of the shower and let it air dry, I will take a picture for you too.
After a windy trip to the park, the giant natural blow-dryer had transformed it a bit and I liked it even more. I’m now considering installing a wind-tunnel in the master bathroom.
There is a Mullet-O-Spectral Scale against which all hair can be judged. My hair cannot truly be defined as a mullet but it definitely falls closer to the Mullatial end of the spectrum than I am comfortable with. Here’s a rough sketch of the scale as I see it:
I hope that clears things up for you. Basically, as my hair gets shorter or less uniform in length, I freak.
And, if all else fails, I wear a hat!
I promise never to post that many pictures of myself ever ever again.