Hardware

She asks me about the tools in my toolbox. Not hammer, camera or computer. "What do you use to style your hair?" She looks me in the eye. I give a couple details about my get-out-of-bed-and-go approach. She looks me in the eye again, not amused at all. "Every gal needs some tools," she tells me, adding "No one wakes up beautiful." I confess to being the owner of an expensive ceramic hair dryer. My dog Floyd likes me to press a cool button that gives him a fresh air blast. This pleases even less the woman standing at my side deftly handling both hair brush and curling iron. Regular mani-pedis count for nothing. My flossed teeth impress not one ounce. She budges not a bit even after I share my childhood bobby-pins story. Like an actress on cue, I evoke the tears shed during that endless female torture, but making a plea for my pain-free beach-girl look gains no ground. "Start here," she says, holding up a Velcro roller. "Get the red ones."