I will start.
It’s not about the time I was locked in a room without my tube of lip balm and wiped a pat of salted butter on my lips. It’s also not time Taylor Swift used a sharpie as an eyeliner in an airplane bath. This is her story, not mine.
My story starts with a bottle of shampoo from one of these companies with really good, targeted ads. The bottle I had was fading and its replacement wasn’t due for another week. Every day I feared that I would reach the last drop. When it finally happened, I panicked.
What other cleaning agents did I have within reach? There was a pigeon rod – but aren’t those things like a quarter moisturizer? I could use my summer detergent face wash, but I vowed to only use tiny chases to ration it. There was another facial cleanser that I thought might do the trick, and I had no emotional connection with it. I dragged it into my dirt chamber and examined the ingredients list. The first ingredient was sweet almond oil. What the hell! Why do I have so much crap and why can’t any of it approach shampoo? You’d think someone in the population bordering on beauty would have safes full of things that only show up on my door.
I peeked under the sink to see if my oxiclean tub had any warnings about using it to wash hair. There I saw it – Orson’s dog shampoo. Burt’s Bees for Dogs oatmeal shampoo, to be precise. “Well, if it’s good enough for him …” I fell silent and lied. Experience has shown that it was not that different from human shampoo. Or even horse shampoo, given my story with Mane ‘n Tail. Maybe we are more alike than we think? [Note: Orson is doing fine, by the way! He says, “BORK!”]
I lathered and rinsed. A few hours later, after my hair was air-dried, I caught a glimpse of the mirror. Every two inches of it was matted like a monkey, and it was somehow greasier than before? I looked for a can of dry shampoo. No luck, of course. I searched the rest of my home. Among the things I’ve considered:
The sediment at the bottom of the quinoa glass
The sediment at the bottom of the bag with crushed wheat
I finally decided on hand sanitizer. It dries out my hands so why not my hair? I parted my hair and sprayed it on the roots. It stung. Dear reader, if you take one thing out of this story, let it be that a quick spritz of alcohol on oily hair is a great life hack when you want hair that is both brittle and oily.
I went to bed with a headscarf like Hulk Hogan tied to my head to protect my pillowcases from myself. The next morning my errands went like this: feed the dog, take the dog for a walk, buy human shampoo. These are my inner demons. Now it’s your turn to share yours.
– Or Gotham
Photo via ITG