I’m obsessed with my Brazilian. (No, not a Brazilian wax, I’m way too cowardly for that) I’m talking about the answer to every curly-haired girl’s prayers, the Brazilian blowout. My over bleached, under conditioned hair could be charitably described as an abandoned rats nest. Lisa, my drop dead gorgeous hairdresser, took pity on me, and suggested the treatment that would change my life forever (insert harrowing Dum dum dummmm sound effect.)

Lisa began the process in earnest, while I was sure there could only be a few possible outcomes.

1. Baldness

2. My hair would all break off except for two inches – which would still be curly.

3. Some strange combination of the above.

Lisa worked her magic. She took some mystical potion out of a cauldron she was hiding in the back room, and next thing I know, an hour and half had passed and I had the straightest, silkiest, sexiest, hair you’ve ever seen. I’m pretty sure she had to sacrifice a cat in a shampoo bowl, and I’m okay with that because for the first time in my life, I can hop right out of the shower and let my hair air-dry.

Maybe Lisa’s a witch, maybe she’s a miracle worker -- or just an amazing hairstylist. Whatever she is, I’m going to spend my days worshiping at her 5-inch platform clad feet. I’m grateful for the Brazilian blowout, because just like a bad haircut can make you feel like cutting your head off, a great hairstyle can make you feel like you can take on the world. While I'm sure to have bad dates, bad bosses, bad wine, bad hangovers and bad breath I can look forward to the future, confident I’ll never ever have another bad hair day again.

That’s why I’m grateful for my Brazilian.