J: Attack of the fro!

I straightened my hair this morning because I want to look cute for Mr. April tonight…and also in the hopes that the super cute weather man on my favorite channel was exaggerating—or at a minimum, just wishfully thinking (as is often the case in this rain-starved land) when he joyfully announced a 20% chance of precipitation.

As the day has gone on, the sky has gotten darker & darker and my (supposed to be straight) hair has gotten frizzier and frizzier. Now weather.com is saying there’s a 65% chance of rain right at the time when Mr. April and I are supposed to meet.

(Why, oh why didn’t I go with the curls?)

It’s sounding like: best case=I get sprinkled on, worst case=drenched. That’s fine. I actually (usually) like rain.

Here's how I'm imagining tonight will go:

We meet up and go into the theater…maybe get a bit drippy on the way…no biggie.

But then…that’s when the 'magic' happens. Over the next two hours, as the hair dries,unbeknownst to me it takes on a life of its own…growing and expanding out of control. (The darkness of the theater mixed with a bit of moisture, marinated in a room filled with the warmth of so many people crowded into one space=the ideal environment for rampant hair poof.)

And then…

Annnnd then…

The lights come on and eeeeeeeeeeek!!! People spot the monstrosity that has sprouted from my head and everyone stampedes from the theater.

And my date? My date turns to me to ask how I like the movie. His eyes get big, his mouth drops open and at first he stares but then intentionally avoids looking in my head region while he quickly makes excuses about how he really has plans & needs to get home and feed his fish/wash his (bald) head/inventory his pantry. He is never heard from again.

Sigh.