Well, they're right, it does look a little better. But that's because the electric color's been diluted by over 40 washings in a single week
using, in addition to shampoo, a bar of deodorizing soap, dishwashing liquid and Lava hand soap. Hair-raising tales are the norm for me, though. Over the years I've done all kinds of bizarre things in the name of
beauty and count myself fortunate I'm not bald, considering all the torture I've dumped on my head. I am to hair what Exxon Valdez is to water.
Back in the 60's I wore it long and straight, a la Cher. Since my hair
had a little wave, I used to slap my head on the ironing board every morning before I went to school and iron it -- the hair, not the head. Amazingly enough, I never burned my scalp, but I did manage to singe my locks a
few times. (Note: This should not be attempted with a steam iron.)
In the 70's I went for the Farrah Fawcett big-hair look. I had lots and lots of hair cut in layers and spent hours every day washing it, curling it
and spraying it into a block of cement. I could stand outside in a hurricane and my hair wouldn't even ripple. It wasn't a very good hairdo for poolside or a convertible, however, so I had to limit my activities.
During this particular period I also used hot rollers, hair dryers and curling irons, resulting in tons of split ends and frizzies. This led me to conclude I needed an oil treatment. and, being too lazy to go buy one, I
decided to wing it.
Whenever I wing it, I get dangerous. This time was no exception.
Reasoning that if petroleum jelly was a good moisturizer for skin, it would be equally good for my hair, I plastered half a jar
of the stuff on my head one Saturday morning, stuck some Saran Wrap over the whole mess so it would penetrate into the hair shafts, whatever that meant, and proceeded to clean my apartment.
About an hour later I
jumped into the shower and tried to wash the petroleum jelly out.
Now it's a fact of life that certain substances that just don't react well to water. Asphalt's one of them. Concrete's another. Petroleum jelly also
fits in that category. In fact, one of it's functions is to keep water away from wounds and other boo-boos and it's lasted because, well, it works.
Did this fact dawn on me before I slathered my head with it? No.
Did this fact dawn on me after I slathered my head with it? Well, let me ask you this -- does Dennis Rodman make an ugly woman?
I stood in the shower that day scrubbing with hot, hot water and everything I could get
my hands on, trying to remove that huge glob of grease from my head. Nothing worked. I cancelled a social engagement for that evening and spent the night scrubbing my hair, continued through the next day and, by Monday,
had it to the point where it looked like I hadn't washed it for a couple of weeks.
I was actually grateful to have come that far.
Eventually, of course, the petroleum jelly wore off and I got back to normal. Or,
at least, as normal as I can get.
After all, only two short weeks ago my hair was the color of a stop sign. And in my life, that's perfectly normal.
