The extremely volumized hair challenge and Mozart

My friend Irene's extremely volumized hair (evh) was something that I've always liked or envied about her since I met her at the class I favored most.

Somehow I thought that her hair adds something to her already-glamorous-look.

To me, in order to recognize or recall her signature look, as if one big bubble quote instantly pops up besides my head, her evh was definitely the something that reminds me 'it's her'.

But for some reason, she seemed like she doesn't really enjoy having her evh.

I have couple of examples to prove this.

She once told me that how much appreciation she had for hair straighteners and the inventor of that tool.

She almost sounded like about to send the inventor a thank letter.

She also said that using that tool was one of her life changing experiences and insisted that her life indeed, has changed since then.

Her enthusiasm towards that thang seemed far exceed any veteran professors trying to deliver their lectures with passion. 

And today at lunch, with laying her creamy buffalo sauce topped over unwrapped sandwich on the bench table, she said,

"Jay told me that my hair is freezy."

I didn't know what that meant.. hair being freezy..

But her hair looked just fine.

Instead of telling that her, I concentrated on my slice of buffalo pizza, my second favorite food made out of buffalo sauce, coming after buffalo wings.

Anyways..

After being greatly inspired by her evh, I told my mom about that.

At some points of life, my mom liked to experiment anything to her life target, me.

And that moment was the perfect timing for her to testify her curiosity.

She gently asked me to sit down on the carpet, as if she thought she's was a hair stylist or something.

I let her to reign over my brown straight hair.

She put few of pink hair rollers on "just" the front side of my head and that was how her simple experimentation was ended.

While I waited for the moment of uncurling those, I followed my mom and grandma going out to pick my aunt from her work.

....

Few hours were passed.

With a certain expectation, I slowly uncurled those things off of my hair.

!!!!

We rolled up the front part, but the side parts were rolled up.

Instead of seeing the hair like hers, mine turned out like Mozart's hair.

When I looked into the mirror, there was Mozart standing instead of me.

I looked like above picture.

And I was almost compelling to grab a musical baton stick and let my arms flow in whatever ways.