I remember the first time I saw you. It was in 2013 and I was looking for a replacement flat iron. I was at the beauty supply, surrounded by hair and make up items, when I looked up and saw you. You were wrapped in cellophane and cardboard and seated on a shelf. I knew you were the one for me.
I took you home that day and placed you on the sink in my bathroom. We had a lot of good times together. You were there when my hair was shoulder-length and you were there when I decided to let it grow longer. All those mornings when you straightened my hair – you made it look so nice. I would get compliments on my hair all the time, to which I would humbly reply that it was all due to you Flat Iron.
I tried so hard to maintain your upkeep. I would carefully wipe down your panels every so often when they got caked with the makeup that was always on my hands. I always turned off and unplugged you and when I went on vacation, you had your own little carrying bag that was insulated.
Your expiration came at a complete surprise to me. I had taken you to Iceland so that I could have nice hair on my vacation. But you wouldn’t heat up when I plugged you into the outlet. I had thought it was just a minor blip, that perhaps Iceland outlets had different voltages than the U.S. and that I would just have to wait until I got back to the States to use you. But then, in the mornings after I returned, when I was getting ready for work, you still wouldn’t heat up.
I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Did I need to reset the plug? Did I need to turn the heat settings up? Maybe you just needed a few days to get acclimated back into the U.S.
On the other hand, I felt so betrayed. You had given me no warning that you were on the fritz. One day you worked, and then next, nothing.
I had to finally face the facts that maybe our days of straightening hair were over.
I will never forget you Flat Iron (until the next time, when I go buy a replacement).