Give Me a Head of Hair, Long Beautiful Hair

I gave the old oil and vinegar hair care regimen a fair shake.  I really did.  And in all reality it wasn't bad.  But that chapter, my friends, has come to a close.

I began this journey with my knitting friends who challenged me to try it for the period of Lent since I was interested in it anyway.  All was going okay, but I never felt like my hair was getting conditioned very well.  My hair didn't feel as silky, tangle free, and soft as I wanted.  I kept waiting for the magical transformation in my hair - hair that had never felt healthier - that others had spoken of.  It never really came.  (Sort of like the elusive runner's high that I never once experienced in all my attempts at becoming a runner.) 

The end of June is when I was finally able to see my knitting group again.  I hadn't seen them since February!  (Which is wrong and unhealthy.)  They, in their delightful honest ways, told me that my hair looked fine except that it wasn't as shiny.  I agreed. 

I decided to try an experiment with the vinegar conditioner by throwing in a tablespoon of olive oil with my vinegar water mixture.  I hopped in the shower, went through my normal routine, and when that conditioner met my hair I thought I heard angels singing.  This, THIS, is what conditioned hair felt like.  I rubbed it through my hair ends and rinsed it out, all the while reveling in the luxurious feel of my hair. 

Ah, but what a cruel hoax it all turned out to be.  A few moments later when I was blow drying my hair I realized that I had not in fact rinsed out the "conditioner" at all.  Somehow, I had thought the vinegar would cut through the oil and allow it to rinse off.  The oil sat on my hair like those poor bird-victims of the Exxon Valdez disaster.  I thought maybe as I blow dried it the heat would help it to absorb into my hair.  This did not happen. 

I walked around with my oily cap of hair wanting to wash it so badly.  And I mean wash it with shampoo.  Not only did I feel the baking soda wash was not going to be any sort of match for this oily disaster head, but I was longing to feel the rich lather and sudsy softness of a shampoo - that complete squeaky clean feeling that comes with all that soapy goodness.  But I had come so far!  How could I just give up, revert back? 

I decided I would shampoo and condition (and I mean manufactured conditioner here) JUST ONCE and then I would go back to what I was doing.  Maybe try some other experiments with the conditioner.

In the shower I was nervous.  Would I remember how to do this?  How would my hair react?  Well, it's like riding a bicycle, the squeezing of the bottles and the lathering of the head.  And let me tell you how my hair reacted.

My. Hair. Loved. It.

I don't think my hair had ever felt so silky and supple and soft and gorgeous in my entire life.  I don't think my baby hair felt as sweet as the hair on my head felt on that particular day.  I was like a Pantene commercial, touching my hair, swishing my hair, smelling my hair, tossing my luxurious locks. 

A part of me knew right then and there that it was over.  We were going camping that weekend and I decided I didn't want to hassle with taking baking soda and vinegar and putting together my mixtures while camping.  But I would go right back to it the next week I said.

When we got home we were getting ready to leave in a few days for another weekend.  I decided there was no point in hassling with it right then either.  I would get right back to it the next week.

But the next week came, and I marched slowly into the bathroom.  I grasped my mustard and dressing bottles I'd been using for the hair care mixtures, and walked resignedly into the kitchen, where I placed them gently in the dishwasher.  It was over.  In the end, I'm simply too vain.  Woe is me.  I am too weak and too proud. 

I have decided that what is better, for my hair at least, has little to do with what I'm washing it with but rather the frequency.  My hair is so much healthier when I only wash it every third day.  It was a good run.  Now I know.  And sweet mercy, you just ought to run your fingers through my hair sometime.  I can't get over the difference. 

Where Have I Been

When I don't blog for a week or two I get completely overwhelmed with all the things I should have blogged about and wanted to blog about...and then my mind gets paralyzed and can't think of anything of any interest to anyone.  So, it is in an attempt to get myself blogging again that I make this entry.  It is in the spirit of one of my favorite bloggers, the yarnharlot, who often writes numbered lists of random happenings.  Here goes:

1. We were thieved.  A hoodlum broke into our garage and took our Garmin (GPS) and Brian's circular saw.  I guess my dad's right.  We live in the ghetto.  But I'm sure that crack-head needed the money worse than we needed that circular saw or the somewhat untrustworthy navigational device.
2. I acquired the lamest sports injury in history.  I took a long walk.  And after that I couldn't walk for days.  According to the internet, I probably had a bit of tendonitis.  From walking.  Are you kidding me?
3. I read a list of symptoms for goiter.  I concluded that I did not in fact have goiter.  I woke up the next morning with goiter.  It's better now.
4. I have been crying excessively for the last two weeks.  The last episode of "The Office" made me a wreck.  My mom recited "The Road Less Traveled" at Easter dinner and I blubbered like a baby the entire time.  I have turned into a sentimental sap.  More so than before.  It's probably a symptom of goiter.
5. I finished the "Harry Potter" book series.  Ten years later than the rest of the world.  But wow, were they ever good!
6. I had an exhilarating library experience.  I requested that the library purchase about five books.  And they did.  And they held them for me so that I could read them first.  The power may have gone to my head. 
7. We spent a lovely weekend in Indy with Brian's parents in which we ate copious amounts of meat.  Mmmmmmmm...
8. Our sweet 1995 Taurus has finally been repaired, i.e. it no longer has its "sweet purr" as I liked to refer to it.  The purr had turned into a roar.  You're welcome neighborhood.  We have done our part to make this area a little less ghetto.
9. In February I took a bunch of items to area consignment shops.  Last week I went and collected $45 dollars from them.  I did not have to get up early, put out tables, put stupid price stickers on anything, and make small talk with strange neighbors.  I will never have another garage sale as long as I live. 
10. My brother-in-law claimed that if you put an orange in a sock and beat somebody with it, they'll be hurt badly but won't bruise.  So guess what we did this weekend after purchasing oranges?  He was wrong.  I have a bruise on my arm from where I beat my own self with a sock-orange.  Brian was the only one smart enough to not take part in this experiment.

In related news: I made it throught the Lent season without shampooing or conditioning my hair.  There were some rough days.  I over-baking-soda'd my hair one day and ended up with a grease bomb living on top of my head.  Then I got some control but I was hating it.  The top of my head was greasy and the tips of my hair were DRY and resembled a bristle broom.  It was disaster. 

I scoured the internet trying to figure out where I was going wrong.  The helpful advice I found said: "Play around with the proportions and methods.  You'll figure out what works for you."  I don't want to play around!  I just want someone to tell me what the three options are and spell out how to do them so I can end this torture!!  One person said "don't use too much baking soda because it will end up making your hair more greasy."  Another said, "If your hair is greasy you need to add some more baking soda."  Thank you so much to the granola-eating-birkentstock-wearing-hippies who can't give me CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO GET MY HAIR CLEAN. 

I finally found what has worked for me, thanks to one kind person who made a comment on another blog with some clear instructions.  I have a mixture of roughly two tablespoons of baking soda to one cup of water.  I mix the baking soda with HOT water and shake it until dissolved. (The baking soda should have a slippery, not gritty feel.)  I get my hair dripping wet, and then apply the mixture.  Rub it in.  Let it sit while I brush my teeth.  (Yes, I brush my teeth in the shower...makes way more sense.)  Then rinse it out really good.  I then rinse the ends only of my hair with my vinegar mixture.  (1 Tbs. Vinegar/1 C. Water)  And then I rinse that out. 

I think I'm going to stick with it for a while.  I don't ever want to go through that adjustment period again.  So I'll keep it going until a.) I'm wealthy and can afford really delightful organic hair products or b.) I'm too lazy to take it any longer. 

With that, I leave you with a few pictures of what my hair looked like a few weeks into the project - and I wish you a happy spring!!!

First Poo-Free Washing

Since I spent copious amounts of time on Fat Tuesday washing my hair, I did not wash it yesterday (the first day of Lent).  So today was the first washing with baking soda and apple cider vinegar.  And tomorrow I have a hair appointment.  Thus, my Lenten exercise is going to start off with a bit of a hiccup because my hair dresser is going to wash my hair.  I briefly considered taking in my bottle of baking soda mix to have her use, but I think she would look askance at that.  In fact, I don't think I'll tell her of my plan because she will probably hair-dresser-divorce me. 

The results of the first washing: it didn't feel like I washed my hair at all.  I didn't like it.  It just sort of felt like I was pouring water on my head.  It doesn't feel as clean as normal, but, maybe I'll develop a new normal.  I blow dried it and here's what I look like:

I guess it looks clean enough, but I'm not quite sure yet what I think.

Also, just for fun, here's a picture of a.) a throw pillow with a tiny head, or b.) my giant cat.  I report, you decide.

 

 What you can't tell from this shot is that her entire body is covering a floor vent and she is vampiring all the heat that is supposed to warm the guest room.  I tried putting her on a diet but all that happened is that my other cat almost starved to death because she ate all his food.  Oh Maggie, what will become of you? 

Poo Free

Happy Ash Wednesday!  Every year I struggle to find something meaningful to give up for Lent.  I really admire the idea behind giving something up - to draw closer to God - to examine the practices and material goods we have become dependent on in our daily living - even if it's not done for religious reasons.  And so often I end up giving up on giving something up because it seems too difficult to find that perfect transformational experience. 

A few weeks ago I was kicking around the idea of going shampoo and conditioner free.  I had read several forums and blog posts about it and it sounds, well, at the least really interesting.  (There is a great article on how to do this at simplemom.net.)  Most of what I've read claims that your head will not become a grease pit, but that in fact you will have hair that is in the best condition ever.  (Hmmm, I am sort of vain about said hair.)  To sum it up, you wash your hair with baking soda and you condition it with apple cider vinegar.  How cheap and easy can you get?  And you aren't pouring horrible chemicals on your head and you help the environment?  No brainer.  

I brought it up to my knitting group (always full of wise counsel and up for good adventure) and they suggested I take the leap for Lent.  That way, I am giving it a fair shake but have an ending date if it doesn't work out.  I loved the idea immediately.

And then I got a little crazy.  There is so much good information out there about the dangers of the chemicals we use in cleaning our homes and our bodies.  Not only that, but there are really easy, cheap, and natural ingredients we can use as an alternative.  I went to the library and pulled out books with recipes.  I went to the health food store and went berserk.  I stopped at the grocery store and bought all the vinegar and baking soda they had.  (Just kidding...although I stocked up.)  I've already started mixing up my own laundry detergent.  Today I made fabric softener.  Two days ago I started using the oil cleansing method on my face.  (I'll admit, this one SCARES ME TO DEATH.) 

But I can't help feel like all these things are still just token moves, just drops in the environmental bucket.  And I need to find a balance.  I don't know where to stop.  For instance, yesterday I read a forum where women were exclaiming how wonderful reusable feminine hygiene products are and why don't all women use them and why would you want to kill mother earth by not using them and OMG when are you going to start using them?  It had not really occurred to me that I should be seeking an alternative and now I feel just horrible.  Am I literally going to have to go sit in a red tent every month now?  Every time I hear about something new, I can't un-hear it, and then I feel I have a responsibility to respond.  I can't eat my beloved Swiss Cake Rolls without feeling a tremendous amount of guilt because I just know that they are filled with things that are just HORRIBLE for me, not to mention the packaging.  Oh my lands, THE PACKAGING! 

I'm going to take a deep breath now. 

All better. 

But you see what I'm saying about this balance issue.  I want to try to live responsibly - in regards to the environment, our health, and the old pocket-book - but I also want to enjoy the good things in life (i.e. Swiss Cake Rolls) and enjoy my time here on this planet. 

At any rate, yesterday was Fat Tuesday and since it was my last day to shampoo, I lived it up.  Hope you did the same.  My hope is that if you are giving up something for Lent, it might be an enlightening experience. 

And One More Awkward, Horrifying, Situation...

My new year's resolution of blogging more regularly has not gotten off to a very good start. So my Valentine's resolution will be to blog more. I may need a St. Patrick's day resolution as well...and an Easter...maybe Memorial Day...I'll keep trying. (I really do enjoy this!)

But since I'm here I'll tell you about my latest unpleasant/annoying life situation that really isn't that big of a deal but just another example of why I find life to be a series of awkward and uncomfortable scenarios being played out. It involves my hair. Again.

For nine years I faithfully went to Jason Davidson for all my hair styling needs. Before him I just sort of bounced around from stylist to stylist, never ready to commit to any, never finding that je ne sais quoi. So I'd go to someone a few times and then avoid that salon like the plague so I wouldn't have to see their face when the betrayal they felt registered on it as they realized I was getting my hair styled by someone else. I don't know if this is how it feels to them but it's how I imagine it must feel. But then I found Jason, or rather my sister-in-law did, recommended him to me, and the rest is history. So several years ago when he moved to Toledo I thought it would be all over. But he continued to come back to Warsaw every weekend to cut hair. And then a few years ago when he told me he had enrolled in college to become an accountant, I knew our glorious days together were numbered. But I was figuring I had until May of this year. So I was shocked and horrified and not at all emotionally prepared, when he told me casually in November that "this would be our last appointment together." We did a little stroll down memory lane and quickly did the math and I couldn't believe it when he said that he had been styling my hair for NINE YEARS!!! That is longer than many marriages. It's more than twice as long as I was in high school and that just makes me feel old. (I don't know why. I guess it seems unrealistic that I could have been out of high school long enough for that length of a hair-cutting relationship.) So, I bid him a fare-well and left, feeling a bit dazed and a whole lot of being in denial.

I had eight weeks before I needed to embark on the journey that I so dreaded: the journey to find a new stylist.

And it's not that I'm really that worried about my hair although I fully admit to being a bit vain about my hair. (Look, I'll never be a leggy, slender, beauty. But I can have a good hair cut dang it!) My hair will grow out from a bad cut. It's that whole rotten process that goes along with it. Meeting a new stylist, judging their abilities and my haircut, deciding if they pass muster, and then trying to avoid them if they don't. And I hate having to make small talk for 45 minutes to an hour. Oh, how I hate that. I don't know if they expect me to keep the chatter going or if they prefer I shut up. Do they really care about what I'm making for dinner? Do I really care about what shows they enjoy watching? I feel like I never really received the full instructions for this song and dance and I just don't know all the rules. Jason and I had enough history that it was pleasant and I think he knew I was comfortable with long periods of silence. But yet we seemed to click conversationally. Oh Jason, why did you have to leave me?

So my hair got pretty shaggy and my bangs were unbearable. I have to say that I love rocking the bang look. Okay, now I'm going to digress terribly.

When I decided to go with my new style, specifically bringing back the bangs I never imagined the reaction I would receive. I have never received so much immediate and strong reaction to any haircut I've ever gotten. And I've gotten A LOT of styles over the years. Some of the reactions:

• You look like a geisha/You look like a China girl (that one's totally not PC but I heard it)
• You look like Amelie (a crazy French movie)
• You dyed your hair didn't you? (Uh, no)
• You look like a flapper girl from the 1920's
• Wow I love it, it looks so retro!
• Etc...

But my favorite reaction by far was Brian's. We both got home in the early afternoon. He said nothing but shot me questioning glances all day. Approximately eight hours later he casually asked, "Did you do something different with your hair?" Priceless.
Back to the present moment. My hair was shaggy bad. I had not had the heart to call any place and make an appointment. I got desperate and walked in to a salon that I was planning to call anyway to see if they would take a walk-in. And the salon is beautiful! And I told the lady at the desk that my hair-stylist of nine years had abandoned me and I was frightened. Yeah. I said it. I wanted them to know that I was serious about my hair and my stylists and that I was interviewing them and they could have a loyal customer if things went well. Jessica would be cutting my hair and I looked in the book of stylists while I waited and discovered she was a junior stylist - i.e. inexperienced. So Jessica cut my hair and she was lovely and nice. Although she tried to push product (which I had forgotten that salons did because Jason just didn't do that). And my haircut was actually quite nice. But a.) Jessica has only been cutting hair nine months, b.) I don't know if we have that much in common, and c.) after barely cutting off a whisper of bangs and asking me if she had cut off enough and me going, "uh, no," she declared that she had never cut anyone's bangs that short before. WHAAAA!?!?!? My bangs aren't crazy short. I'm not asking anyone to take my bangs up to my hairline. What do you mean that these are the shortest bangs you've ever cut? And then she refused to cut them in a blunt line the way Jason did. She tapered them and then tried to give me a reason why she thought this was best and I was all "whatever, they're fine." But, she had been aware that I had been with a stylist for nine year (the lady at the front desk evidently took me seriously) so I assured her at the end that she had done a great job. And she had. I wasn't lying. For my first experience post-Jason I walked away happy. But I still wanted to explore more options.
Then she walked me to the front desk and there it was. The question I had feared. She asked, "so do you want to go ahead and schedule your next appointment?" Now she did a great job and all but I'm not ready to COMMIT just yet. But I'm also a big wimp. So I said, "sure." (My plan was to schedule and then call later and cancel.) But here's the kicker. She told me then that she was glad to meet me, AND SHE HUGGED ME. She hugged me and now it's like we're gosh-darn family. She felt like she had succeeded. And it's not that she didn't. I just need to play the field a little before I settle down. But she hugged me and I don't know what to do. Because I really loved the salon but how do I go in there and "interview" other stylists with the huggy-feely lady looking at me? It will feel like killing a puppy.
A decision will have to be made. Soon. And I don't feel equipped to handle it. And that is my current annoying life situation. Aren't you glad I blogged again?

My Crowning Glory

I've had my share of issues with the aging process, but I feel like I've learned to embrace it fairly well. I've even watched those gray hairs pop up in my dark brown hair with increasing frequency, and, after the initial falling-to-my-knees, weeping, and asking-God-"why me?" jag, I've been completely fine with them. Really, I want to grow old gracefully, embrace my gray hair like those really cool earthy (a.k.a. hippie) moms with their salt and pepper pony tails and containers of home made hummus they bring to the park for their childrens' snack. Gray hairs? Whatever. You can take your shame inducing tendencies and bury them in a box. My gray hairs will serve as my badge of honor showing how mature and independent I am. Not vain at all. Not me.

But I'll fess up. I've been fine with those grays because, for the most part, they stay concealed under my still-brown curtain of hair. Most of them reside on the right side of my head, kind of level with the top of my ear. So they get lost in the rest of my hair. But I know they're there and they don't bother me a bit. (Remember, the badge of honor bit.) My hair stylist, Jason, constantly wants to flip my hair and part it on the other side. And I'm all, dude, that is where the hot bed of grays lie. Don't uncover them! The oxygen will probably make them multiply. But I go home, flip my hair back, safely covering the evidence of my lost youth. (And don't get me wrong, Jason is the best stylist I've ever been with. He just wants me to appear old evidently.)

And then the real kicker ocurred. One night while getting ready to head out, there it stood in the mirror. Staring back at me was one lone gray hair standing proudly IN THE MIDDLE OF MY PART. This one declared war. This one said, "Who are you trying to kid lady? You can't hide us forever you old hag." I feel differently about this lone ranger. He'll inevitably need a kemo sabe.

And so now, I don't know how I feel about the salt and pepper ponytail mom anymore. She seems so cliche. Do I dye the hair, pluck the hair, accept the hair? I've never thought of myself as vain but...I guess I think this blog is about me.