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Looking back, I realize now that holding a scalding hot laundry iron inches away from my face probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done, but I was a curious teenager, and I’d heard from my friend Jessica that the quickest way to get straight hair was to iron it.
Okay, this was the early ’90s, and flat irons hadn’t quite made their way into every straight hair-challenged girl’s bathroom yet, so, one day, after pressing the wrinkles out of my favorite pair of Z. Cavariccis and my black-and-white polka-dot shirt (complete with sheer black sleeves!), I placed my long, wavy hair on the ironing board and…
(Seriously, do NOT try this at home.)
It didn’t take long to turn my unruly lion’s mane into a sleek curtain of straight hair. “Victory!” I roared. Adrenaline burned through my veins! — or I guess it could have been heat from the iron.
This went on for about two weeks until the day my mom walked in on me. What followed was A LOT OF YELLING! And that pretty much put an end to that particular kind of ironing.