Tress Trouble

It all started with this new hairbrush. As has been widely advertised, I'm crazy about straight hair and am always trying to straighten my unruly curls, albeit with home remedies. Since I was allowed to carry only the most essentials with me when I arrived here, I had to shop for most of sundry items and to be exact, a round bristled hair brush.
I had just washed my hair and was sitting in front of the TV, running the brush slowly through my hair trying to make it straighter. I tried copying the way my hair stylist does - rolling up the hair from the end to the root and slowly uncurling it while drying it.
It's just my good luck that I had to start from the front most hair. I slowly started twirling it around the brush and had it tightly rolled up to the roots. Then I slowly started uncurling the roll. Or tried to.
It was only then that I realised how strong could my hair be. It simply refused to budge. It was rolled up tight and somehow I had managed to roll some hair in the opposite direction. Don't ask me how - if I knew that I wouldn't be.. well.. like how I am now.
There was I, with the brush stuck to this huge roll on the top of my head, like a horn growing horizontally.
Worse thing is, I was alone at home. I was standing in front of the mirror trying to get to the root of the problem for about half an hour, with no end in sight - literally. It was then I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock - the husband was home! Never had his return been so sweet!
Thence started the struggle for freedom - try what we might, the hair refused to separate itself from the brush. He even tried using a screwdriver to seperate the layers from the brush's surface. It petered out.
Then I heard the dreaded words from his lips - 'I think we've got no option but to cut the hair'. 'Nooooo', I moaned. Much as I desired straight hair, I still loved having hair - curly as it may be. My moans inspired him to find other ways to pull the siamese twins apart - why not cut the bristles of the brush? I brightened up at this idea - looking like a happy mutant unicorn.
But sadly, that idea did not work out too, since we could reach to the bristles.
It had to be done.
He took up the terrifying scissors and snip! snip! snip! I was left with a small curly bunch on one side of my head. Hideous is not the word to describe it. No really. I wasn't hideous. Just bad looking.
So the next day I went in search of a salon where I can even this out. There I was faced with a new problem. I was in Singapore where people do not speak English - its Singlish that they follow. I had to use words, gestures and a translator to make the guy understand that I wanted him to even out my hair. The poor fella thought that I had a fringe in the front for style. I had to speak for about 10 minutes more to tell him that it was no fringe but an accident.
Then another 10 minutes went by when I tried to convince him that it's okay that I 'ca tie ya har bk' (which translates to : 'can't tie your hair back). Finally, about 20 bucks and half an hour later, I'm left with this funny hairstyle which forces me to wear hairbands that I used to wear as a kid.

Moral of the story: There are lots. Figure them out yourself.