I’ve had this blog-post brewing in my head for a few weeks now. Ever since my last haircut. I’ve been waiting for a photo opp of a day when my hair was lookin’ cute and sassy. Truth be told, I never fix my hair, ever. I whip it back into a clippie in one fell swoop. Boring, but practical and easy. My daughter got her long locks chopped off today after much deliberation. She and I have so much in common, except for what we spend on our hairdoos. I decided this was a good-a-time as any to tell you about my hillbilly hair.
First off, I haven’t used shampoo since March 27 of this year. I’ve mentioned this before, but just wanted to let all my fans know, we don’t even have a bottle of shampoo in the shower. My daughter sent me the link that inspired me to go shampooless. She was going to give try it, but I don’t think she can go 36 hours without a shampoo-fix. I’ve gone close to 7 months. I do shower, thank you very much. I scrub my scalp with baking soda and rinse with vinegar. My hair has never felt healthier. I can go days without washing it. There is something in shampoo that makes your hair greasier. I guess it’s all meant to get us addicted.
I wish I could say I’m saving gobs of money by not using shampoo, but that would be lying. I have saved buttloads by not going to a salon to get my haircut or colored. The last time I paid someone to ‘do’ my hair, was October of last year, for my daughter’s wedding. Ever since then, Lance has cut my hair. Yep, you read that right. I let Lance cut my hair every few months or so. I just smooth it back into a ponytail and he chops off however much I ask him to. An inch or three. I don’t think salons want you to know how easy it is to cut your hair at home.
A couple of weeks ago I was annoyed by how long my hair was getting. It took 2 minutes rather than 1 to get it swooped back nicely in a clippie. We all know how fed up we get with our head-o-hair and must get it cut, a.s.a.p. Well, the night I got fed up was also the night Lance had already had a few or 4 glasses of wine. “I can’t let him cut my hair while he’s drunk” I thought. So I grabbed the scissors myself. I probably should add, I had a few glasses of vino myself that night. Funny how I thought he couldn’t do the job, but tipsy lil ol me, could. I gather it back ever so sleek in a ponytail. I grab the closest scissors, measure off about an inch (or 3?) of my tail and WHACK. That was easy. I bring the section of recently lopped off locks within my view. OH SH*T (and I don’t swear, often). The chunk of hair was anything but evenly cut. After much trimming and combing and rechopping, I decided it was presentable.
So as not to draw attention to my ‘new doo’, I grabbed a clippie to pull it back into my normal style. Crap (yes, another curse word), it was too short to stay put. I decided to confess to Lance that I drunkenly cut my own hair because I didn’t want his drunken self to cut it for me. We had a good chuckle and I’ve vowed to not grab the scissors after I’ve grabbed the wine. Hey, it’s only hair, it will grow back. I do love it shorter, it feels thicker. I also love not paying an arm and a leg to have it cut. Lance wouldn’t love me any more if I had a fancy doo. Heck, he shaves his own head and I’ve never met a sexier man in my life.
Most of my friends (and family) spend gobs on their hair every year. I’m thankful they don’t disown me for my hillbilly hair. I have always been the queen of cheap. Thankfully I have a mate that loves me for my thriftiness and in spite of my occasional stupidity. Hey, the less money we spend on our hair, the more we can spend on wine! CHEERS!