I don’t want you to become too compelled, but I am deep-conditioning my hair right now. The REASON I’m deep-conditioning my hair is because I
yesterday. First time since November 25, 2019. I remember the date because I’m weird about dates. I really am. Ask any family member you happen to see: What’s the best tuna? And also, Who’s the idiot savant about dates? In both cases it’s June. Chicken of the sea. And, really, chicken of anyplace else. See above re not getting her hair cut all year.
Lemme grab my phone and show you a photo from yesterday when I walked into the salon.
“Why, June. Your hair looks marvelous. There was no need to risk life and limb and go to a salon. When exactly did you escape from Witch Mountain, anyway?”
I’m serious, that’s the best it can look nowadays. Well. That’s not true. Some days I have better luck than the above, but not often. In general it just has gotten so heavy that it won’t curl.
I went to the same hairdresser I went to last time. You remember. On November 25, 2019? Anyway, she was diplomatic. “What products have you been using? Anything different?” She picked my hair up several times, trying to conceal her emotions. Her roiling emotions.
What I do, see, is belong to several Curly Girl sites on Facebook, and what THEY do, see, is tell you the CHEAPEST Curly-Girl-friendly shampoos and conditioners out there. When you have curls there are certain ingredients you want to avoid.
Then what I do, see, is head on out to Unique Beauty Supply, or at least I used to pre-plague, and get said supplies. Lately I’ve just been reordering my stuff on the Amazon, there.
My hairdresser sighed. “Yes, I know these products. If you want, I can suggest some stuff that you can’t buy at Target.”
TARGET! I go to Unique Beauty Supply! How dare you—oh, okay. What are they?
So I left there with new gel and a deep-conditioning mask, and when I’ve gotten that second mortgage I plan to get shampoo and conditioner. Oribe. That’s the high-end shit I got. It better work, as I am now impoverished. So anyway I figured I’d keep the $800,000 hair mask on while I type, and rinse it after.
She cut my hair dry—another thing you’re supposed to do with curly hair, so there was no dramatic “after” picture, but I will provide you one later today. You’re welcome. UPDATE: OK, it doesn’t look that good. I’ll try again tomorrow and send you a photo.
I have a big day ahead of me. Of course, I plan to get a migraine later, since I seem to have one EVERY DAY now. But also it’s flu shot day at work, so we are to go into the office two by two like Noah’s Ark, go into our fitness room—fitness whole virus in my body—and get socially distanced shots. As luck would have it my slot is the same as Wedding Alex’s, so to speak, so we will see each other for the first time since February.
Then last night, Lottie Blanco phoned me. “Are you going to the office for your flu shot?” she asked. And that is how we arranged to meet up so she can give me
PUMPKIN POP TARTS
today. I am beside myself. It all sounds so delicious. Remember when the Lottie Blancos fed me regularly? How I miss those days of being fed.
I realize all this hobbing and nobbing means I am riddled with coronavirus. I will get coronavirus, family size. Coronavirus, director’s cut. Corona, extended remix. But you know me. All devil-may-care, over here. I toss caution to the wind.
All right, I gotta go. Work starts in three minutes and I have to rinse the million-dollar conditioner out my head. Did I mention it better work?
Talk to you post-ribs.