Someone has put a curse on me. Spell, whatever. Specific to my hair.
The hair never looks the way I want it to until after midnight, until after the world (and my husband) is fast asleep. Until there is no one to see it in all its glory but me.
I honestly don't know how it happens, but without fail I will go into the bathroom to get ready for bed and my hair will be perfect. It's not like it could just be perfect when I'm leaving the house in the morning. No sir, it's got to be flat in one spot or not curly in another, or my cowlick will be all crazy sticky uppy in the back et cetera. But right before I go to bed, those little vexatious conditions all magically disappear.
It's like Flora, Fauna and Merryweather come and twinkle my locks or something.
I love those little fairies.
Too bad their timing is all screwed up.
So last night, I tried to capture an image of the perfect hair by taking its picture. Sadly, magic frowns upon being captured in film. Apparently, it thinks the camera will steal its soul or something.
Needless to say, the perfect hair will have to remain a figment of your imagination, because the picture I took just made me look crazy.
And maybe just a little desperate. You try to catch some magic and see what you look like.
I tell you though, it was glorious.
I swear it was.