Tonight I had my first night out without the boy. The dear sweet Malissa (Mal) invited me out with a few of her friends into Sutton Coldfield (getting there is a completely new story in and of itself) which is about 25 minutes from where I live. Never shying away from strangers, I was excited to go and be around some femininity for a change (save Jim's general mood swings).
We met up at Apres Bar, which is this red-cladden job, and oddly somewhat family friendly. Though it ain't no gin joint, that's for sure. I took the obligatory run to the toilet to....you know. And while I was washing my hands I noticed an electrical device cushioned aside the sink. The first thing I thought was, "how come I have no electrical outlets next to my sink?!" And then I noticed what it was.
I'm using to seeing bathroom vended condoms or tampons. Maybe even the sporadic bathroom attendee. But this particular bar did not necessitate a bathroom attendant, nor tampons, nor condoms. Apparently it did reuquire a hair straightener. There it sat, staring. I stared back in shock, thinking my one glass of wine was playing up on me. It was pornographic. I just stared at it in total shock. For the American equivalent of $1.35, your hair can be straighter in an instant.
I came back to the table and asked if it was normal. Indeed it is normal. Not every place has them, but it's far from unusual.
This makes me giggly. I straighten my hair with regularity and it doesn't lose it's straightness until I shower. If I were out with my friends, or god forbid a date, with my usual hair....I don't see myself pulling off straight hair simply after one take in the toilet. I'm self conscious enough putting lips gloss on in the pisser, let alone actually changing my coif.
And so I keep on, not bothered by potential broken electricals assuming there are several at the local pub across the road. But mark my words, the day I see an attendant here with a straightener in hand, ready to iron out my unruly tendrils, is the day I move back to America.