...And now it's got a stinking dent in it!

New Year’s Eve, 2009

Brian: “You straightened your hair.”

Me: “Yeah, I used Erin’s straightener. I thought it was kind of different.” (Flips hair around.) “You like it?”

Brian: “Well… um… I like it curly.” His voice lilts up at the end as though he is in trouble.

Me: (Offended) “Well, you don’t have to insult me. It’s just temporary.”

Brian: “Honey, it looks fine. I just think it’s really nice when it’s curly.”

Me: “Fine. I’ll never straighten it again.”

Brian: (Penitent) “Babe, you’re beautiful, no matter what.”

I graciously smile. All is forgiven.

Several days later, I am thinking about this brief conversation. I experience a change of heart. Brian is sweet, I think, to appreciate my hair curly, in its natural form. Usually I straighten my hair and then use a big curling iron to style it, but when I haven’t got the time, I scrunch it. It’s kind of messy and uneven, but hey! Brian says he LIKES it that way.

I don’t need to jazz up my hair for him to think I look nice. He prefers it natural. What a guy. What a sweetheart.

I am thinking this as I work mousse through my hair after my shower. Throughout the afternoon, I let it air dry. That night, I smile at him across the dinner table. “I’m wearing my hair like you said you like it,” I tell him. “It’s curly!”

He looks up at me and scrunches his face. “Not THAT kind of curly,” he whines. He takes another bite. "That’s FRIZZY curly.”

So, with a gentle smile, I get out my curling iron like the sweet wife that I am.

And I give him a nice bonk on the head!

Happy Monday, everyone!