I Will Not Be Winning Any Grill-Offs Any Time Soon

Do you smell that? It smells like something is burning.

Oh, right! It’s my hair!

Last night I was making grilled chicken sandwiches for dinner and I did what I always do when I light the grill. Except this time a massive fireball erupted from it and suddenly I was yelling, “Oh! Oh! My hair is on fire!” No one seemed to notice. They were all playing inside with my mother.

I grabbed for my hair on the right side of my head and a handful of shriveled, charred hair bits fell off in a clump in my hand. Sick. Heart-breaking, actually. I’ve been trying for so long to go without highlighting or cutting it. Well, now it certainly needs to be cut but how I don’t know. My four inch roots will have to stay. No one is going to highlight or lowlight broken, burnt crispies that used to be hair.

Later, as I was getting ready for girls night I realized that I also burnt off half my eyelashes on one eye, my right eyebrow and a good deal of the hair on my right wrist. The stench of burnt hair stayed with me all evening. When I asked H to “touch it! just touch it!” He said, “Um. It doesn’t feel any different to me.” Thanks, big guy.

Truthfully, it could have been so much worse. I didn’t even get a hint of a red, burning blush to my skin. I could have charred half my face or arm. If I was wearing long sleeves it could have been an 911 nightmare. Also? Never light a grill that has had its lid closed. Yup. I did that. Lessons learned. I created that gas pocket all by myself and didn’t even realize it. Now I get to walk around with my grilling dunce cap on for quite some time. Or at least until half my hair grows back out.