For the past week or so I wake up in the morning and my hands smell like burnt curling iron. Ladies, you know the smell. That singed, brown metal wand. It’s unmistakeable.
It’s driving me crazy. Why in the world would my hands smell like burnt curling iron? I don’t even own such an apparatus!
At first I thought I had a stroke or a heart attack. Don’t you smell something when that happens?
Then I thought it was my psyche feeling guilty for it’s inner desires to have straight hair. Nah. That’s definitely not true.
Maybe it’s PTSD. My mind is remembering the smell that it once knew so well. Except I never suffered any trauma from straightening and curling my hair.
I guess I’ll just chalk it up to me being weird and very, very random.