Oil Driller

I’m writing this on June 1, and never have I been so excited to bid adieu a month as I am this month. May just sucked. Family tragedies, horrendous bouts of illness and medical woes, irritating work news for Tom, and a jet-lagged barnacle baby that woke us every hour on the hour for the entirety of the month.

At one point after the travel and exhaustion had really taken hold and with no end in sight, I logged into Pinterest for some distraction. I saw all the beautiful recipes for adorable desserts and preciously twee homeschooling tips and natural herbal remedies for illness…and my mind went totally blank. I had forgotten who any of these people I was following were. It took me a full twenty seconds of staring at my screen to remember: “Yyyyes? I…I care about these things? I care? I do care.” It was like breaking the surface after jumping into ice-cold lakewater; the numbness and shock finally broke and I remembered all those tidy, quiet little pastimes that I enjoy when my life isn’t completely upended.

Obviously, I needed a project. Not an art project, God, no, but something for me. Then my cousin wrote about how she gave up shampoo and hasn’t washed her hair in six months. Having just seen her in Maine and knowing that she looked quite lovely and was neither sporting dreadlocks or a halo of dung flies, I decided to jump in.

So that’s why I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. It’s not depression, oh no; it’s a calculated plot. The first two days were rough. I got the baking-soda-to-vinegar ratio wrong and my hair flattened like a cat faced with a bucket of water. It’s short and layered, and yet I could still pull it back into a ponytail without a single flyaway stray. It was malleable. It was an audition to be the heiress to the Crisco fortune. It was absolutely gross.

Then I got a good spray bottle. And then I got the ratios right. And did a more thorough rinse. It was…a surprise. My hair was fluffy. My scalp, which has itched and flaked at the merest provocation since I can’t even remember when and occasionally is subject to chemical burns from conventional shampoo, stopped itching. It stopped looking like I styled it with Sculpey.

First I was like…

And then I realized how much money I was saving and I was itchless, frizz-free, and ALL my hair was fluffy–not just the new grays that have been popping up en masse since I spawned a second time.

THEN I was like…

make animated gifs
make animated gifs

Yeah. Get that.

Next up was giving up facial soap. I’ve spent a fortune of both my and my mother’s money over the years in search of a good skin regimen. So around this time I fully re-committed to the oil cleansing method. And HOLY GOD, you do NOT want your skin and hair recovering their oil balance at the same time. All I needed was a layered spaghetti tank top and I could have gone straight back to 1997. I already have the playlists, after all. It was so wrong, and BLAH. GROSS. But hey, funny story: that worked too. Skin? Rockin’. Hair? Happy dance.

My inner brainspace is still pretty fogged and weird. But at least now it’s capped and fronted by some fabulously tended real estate.

Ahhhhh. I needed that.

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