I know this seems like a slightly medieval (or at least super granola) thing to do, but I read an article on the dangers of sulfate that moved me deeply. I had never realized the torture I had been inflicting on my hair just by trying to make it smell like herbs.
I hid my shampoo in the closet, and bought some baking soda.
This wasn't for making cookies, but for scrubbing into my scalp. Apparently this is equivalent to giving your head a deep tissue massage and then taking it out for a really nice dinner.
I was also instructed to pour apple cider vinegar into my hair. This is supposed to make add shine in a non-damaging way, but it just made me feel like I was fixing some baroque salad out of follicles.
I let my hair dry and expected to see the full effects of my Jewish heritage emerge.
Instead, my hair looked pretty good. I felt as though I had entered a mutually positive relationship with the dead skin sprouting from my head.
However, healthy monogamy soon lead to adulterous fantasy.
I missed shampooing my hair. I stared longingly at the colorful bottles in Walgreens and secretly smelled the conditioners in my friend's shower. My hair had never been happier, but our relationship was turning one sided.
I sought a counselor:
My friend pondered my question.
And with that, I realized that I was not meant to treat my scalp well.
In some alternate universe, there is a version of me who brushes her hair gently and only washes it with sustainably-gathered eagle tears.
This person also probably has an awesome tan and can do math in her head.
 |
| (Disclaimer: the existence of this person is negligible, but I choose to believe) |
I wish I could be this girl, but I'm just not cut out for a life of selflessness.
I unearthed my shampoo and took a long shower.
It felt like coming home.
******
P.S: Snaps to anyone who caught the "heritage"/"hair-itage" pun. You guys are my favorites.
No comments:
Post a Comment