Greasy Girl

The water here is hard, and in my bubble world, I really prefer soft water. Since I’ll be going without for 5 more months, I have been trying not to wash my hair (in hard water) every day because:

a) When it’s “clean”, my hair feels dreadful. I’d say somewhere next to straw.

b) Combing it is a chore. I swear I could make a small wig out of what is left in my comb, on my floor, and all over the shower. Sorry, I know that’s gross.

Insert Jay saying, “What’s the difference if a dog sheds? See? You do all the time.” Ooooh, not a good comparison to make, my dear. That is definitely not increasing your chances of getting a fury friend.

c) I have another 1.5 months before my next color job. I don’t want that grey hair showing up any sooner than it has to… Yes, I have grey hair, thanks Grandma.

d) They (aka “the professionals”) say you shouldn’t. I figure they know more than I do.

I think it’s funny how boys “ewe” at the thought of girls not washing their hair everyday, like it makes us dirty. They have approximately one inch of hair covering their heads. What do they know?

I’m sure none of you really care about any of this, but I was getting ready to go to the grocery store (and by getting ready I mean washing my face, putting my hair in a bun, and throwing on my sweatpants… and don’t forget the sunscreen!) and realized my hair was so greasy it was embarrassing.

Like, really embarrassing.

Like, “crap, why didn’t I pack a hat” embarrassing.

Oh, because I only packed a carry on and one suitcase and nothing else would fit… (still really proud of myself for that, btw)

Good thing I found one of Jay’s. There was no salvaging this mess with a headband, bobby pin, hairspray or any other tool a girl may have in her bathroom cabinet.

I promise to wash my hair today; I’d hate to give the impression that Americans don’t know how.

I also promise to write about our weekends in London soon — and the Oympics! xo

 

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