This Makes Sense

I only like to wash my hair on Wednesdays and Sundays, which is why I am thankful for "PSSSSST!"

Don't look at me like that. It makes perfect sense.

No, really stop it. I am NOT crazy. Did my husband tell you I was crazy? Because there are plenty of things I could tell you about him.

Okay, I'll explain.

Since my hair has gotten longer (epically long in my opinion, but that's another story), I have cut down on how often I wash it so it doesn't become a static cling nightmare. I have figured out that if I wash it every three days then I don't look like Yahoo Serious, or an oil slick. Because I work at the crack of dawn, I prefer if only one of these days falls on a weekday.

My plan would be perfect if there were only six days a week. Damn Saturday.

In my previous world Saturday meant either washing, and then washing again on Sunday to set the schedule right, and the static balance of my hair wrong; or NOT washing, and looking like a walking rendition of the gulf coast following the BP spill.

Then, I discovered "PSSSST!"

No, it's not a spy firm, or a porn firm, or a compressed air firm. It's a dry shampoo. Several sprays on Saturday means I don't have to wash my hair, and no one thinks I am going to ask them for money. Oh, and my schedule stays in tact.

See? It makes sense. Right? When I told my husband about it he asked me if I also like to drive slow on the driveway and if I buy my underwear at K-Mart. You don't think that though, do you?

Do you?

Oh, god, you do.

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Maybe She's Born With It? Nah.

I am not a fan of makeup. I don't like the way it feels on my face. I don't really know how to put it on. I don't think I look better with it. Oh, and I am allergic to most of it.

I've tried to like makeup, or at least tolerate it. Every three years, like clockwork, I convince myself cosmetic technology has advanced enough that I can put together an easy makeup routine that won't cause my skin to bubble and peel, or turn into an oil slick. I talk Tara or one of my sisters into taking me out and we buy a full set of whatever the latest and greatest is to replace the previous latest and greatest that has congealed, dehydrated, and broken in my bathroom drawer. Then I take the new stuff home, wear it once, hate it, and put it in the drawer to congeal, dehydrate, and break.

I might be pulling it out again though. The New York Times says I should.

Yep, that's right, according to the Times I may not appear as "competent" as my peers because I do not paint my face.

And I thought my incompetence was what actually was doing it.

Kidding.

When I first read the article I was, understandably, a little ticked. I pulled out my Helen Reddy 8-track and railed against the unfairness of the world. I wanted to pledge not only not to wear makeup, but to stop waxing my upper lip, and wearing deodorant. I was thisclose to buying one of those "anti smell crystals" the hippies love when I had another thought.

I do other things to make me look competent at work, that have nothing to do with how I do my job.

I wear nice, stain free clothes.

I make sure my fingernails are clean, and my hair is brushed.

I keep my desk neat, and display pictures of an adorable child.

None of these things should influence if people view me as competent, but they do. They let them know I am a functioning adult who understands how to behave in society, and who wants to working.

So how would a little lip gloss be any different?

I'm giving it a week, just to see if I notice any changes.

Oh, and I am not wearing foundation. I don't care if it makes me look like the Mayor of competent town. There are some things I just won't do.

Wish me luck.

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And Now, The Tears

One month ago...

Me: I think I am going to dye my hair.

Tara: By yourself?

Me: Yeah.

Tara: Don't.

Me: Why not? I'm not going to do something radically different. It will just blend in when my hair grows out and gets lighter in summer.

Tara: Really, don't.

Me: I don't have time to go to the salon and get it done. And my hairdresser just raised prices again.

Tara: I am warning you.

Me: I can totally do this.

Tara: It will end in tears.

Today...

Sometimes I really hate Tara.

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