My entire life I’ve looked forward to appointments at the hair salon. Without fail, as the stylist combs through my hair before washing it, I am the lucky recipient of, “Oh My God, your hair is the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen!” Now, I’m confident this is not the obligatory compliment or tip-fishing, because they always make the other stylists leave their stations to come ogle over my hair.
I’m a redhead. My hair
is was varying shades of red-orange with naturally placed blonde highlights. However, as I’ve aged and spent fewer hours playing outside in the sun, my hair is now more of a generic reddish-brown tone. Anyway, the point is, my hair is one of my defining features, it’s always been something that has brought me happiness… until our recent move to another climate zone.
Now my scalp is acting up, the first inch is constantly flaking off. I’ve never had any problems with my hair until now… I hate it! True to my internet-diagnosing personality, I hopped on Google. The first thing I read is that I must be washing my hair too often. Pffftt! I barely get a shower every other day, let alone wash my hair regularly. So I’ve decided I need to start a coconut oil scalp treatment for my poor head.
Onto the next hair dilemma…
So I have a very good friend who is basically the poster girl for modern day hippies. When she moved to L.A. and we first met, I was jaw-on-the-floor-shocked that she shaved neither her legs nor her armpits. Even though I could never understand her choice, it quickly ceased to bother me. However, I will admit that I asked her to shave her armpits for my wedding, as I knew that with her strapless bridesmaid dress it would be the awkward focal point of our pictures. Though she was the one who thoughtfully volunteered, I now regret asking her to do that.
After having my son and quickly learning that daily showers were a thing of my past, whenever I finally got the chance to scour the filth from my body, the last thing on my mind was shaving. I didn’t have the time or the energy to make that happen. So for the last two and half years I have had hairy legs. Luckily my hair is fine and blond, but damn is it obvious, at least to me.
I hate my hairy legs. I try to pretend like I don’t care, yet all summer long I avoid shorts unless it’s blazing hot. I think I’ve successfully convinced myself I don’t mind having hairy legs, just so I feel less embarrassment when my husband touches me. But frankly that’s probably part of why I’ve been feeling about as unsexy as a bat these last few years.
Wish me luck… Round 1 of Hair Care starts tomorrow!