I counted up the money I’d been given for my 17th birthday and realised that I had enough to buy a GHD.
Up until that point, my hair was uncontrollable.
Giant, frizzy and far too long.
My mother hadn’t a clue how to deal with my thick curly nest and so, instead of giving me a style, she concentrated on brushing it a lot, so that it grew in size and threatened to eat the people I sat next to in school.
I tried frizz-controlling gels and creams that proved useless.
I spent hours blow-drying it straight only to have it triple in size and frizz out within a half hour.
I saved up and bought a Remington Hair Straightener for €40, only to have it make the frizz WORSE.
I spent years of school being called Bum Fluff.
And then, GHD came along.
It was heavy and sturdy and made from fairy dust.
For the first time in my life I had non-humiliating hair.
It was normal looking.
It had a naturally straight look and I abandoned my frizzy curls forever.
I gained some confidence.
I was finally not thought of as The Ugly Friend.
Six wonderful years we spent together.
Me and GHD.
And then two weeks ago, smoke started billowing from it.
GHD died and so did a piece of my heart.
Yesterday I bought a new one.
Sure it works just as well, but it’s a stranger.
It’s skinny and light and it beeps at me.
I miss my Old Reliable.
I will never forget you.