Thursday, November 10, 2011


     I still use hair gel as if it’s the 1980s and big hairbands still rule.  See I have naturally curly hair and hair gel is the only product that makes my hair look the way I want it too—semi-decent and not like a frizz ball from poodle hell.  But it comes at the price of drying out my curls with alcohol and oh yeah being seen using gel, when most people use their beloved “products” like serums and other fancy monikered lotions and potions. 
     So if you're trying to invent some new anti-frizz hair product, please make one like gel, but without the drying effects and make sure the product works the way curly-haired people want their products to work.  And no there isn't one on the market that does that.  Trust me and my cupboard full of once or twice used anti-frizz, prettier curls guaranteed products.  We want hold.  We don’t want flakes.  We don’t want to have to use half a bottle of crap each time we do our hair.  We don’t want any frizz period.  Get it?  Got it?  Good.
     Due to the current inefficiency products on the market I had to bust out my curling iron this morning to re-curl my curls.  That would never happen if I was using the perfect hair product for naturally curly hair.  With all the hullaballoo of heating up the curling iron and rushing to get to work on time I whisked that barrel right across my chin and burned it.  I have a date tonight!  Not good.  Not good at all.
     This whole burnt chin curling iron debacle reminds me of the time I was trying so hard to curl my sister’s hair and do a good job at our version of the beauty parlor game.  We had a babysitter that night who and I remember her stuffing her face with OUR box of Thin Mints Girl Scout Cookies while she “supervised” our makeshift hair salon in the kitchen.  I had my sister on a stool and curled away until wap I singed the top of her right ear.  Not my best hairstylist moment and not a pleasant result for my sister.  A huge blister formed on the top of her ear and she screamed bloody murder at me until I most likely ran to my room and slammed the door leaving her with an inflamed ear, a non-interested babysitter and no Thin Mints.  Needless to say she forbade me to ever do her hair again and the ban is still in effect to this day. 
     The whole blister on the ear catastrophe makes me think of the Icy Hot incident.  We grew up in the desert.  As little kids we weren’t constantly using hand cream and lotion.  This lack of moisturizing regime turned out to be an unfortunate practice for my sister because her hands got terribly dry.  Her cuticles got so dry that her fingers would bleed.  They looked awful. 
     In an effort to help my pained sister, I took a play from Dad’s playbook and went searching through his tennis bag for his container of Icy Hot.  Dad used Icy Hot for his sore muscles after his weekly tennis matches.  In my mind Icy Hot was a cure all.  It worked for Dad, so it would work for my sister.  I didn’t realize you shouldn’t apply Icy Hot to open, bleeding wounds and I was too stupid or headstrong to read the warning label.  Can you say bad idea?  I slathered that pain-relieving cream all over my little sister’s chapped hands.  She screamed sounds I’d never heard before.  I immediately doused her inflamed paws into a sink of cold water.  I tried dot wipe off the Icy Hot. Nothing helped.  Dad came running at the sound of the first scream and started to help her.  He shooed me away all the while looking at me as if I was the devil’s spawn.  My sister was enraged, with every right, started crying and had to try and deal with the pain. 
     I used to say the reason I didn’t go to medical school was because I faint at the sight of blood.  I think this story proves I just don’t have the capacity to heal anything or help anyone in while she’s in pain.  In case she’s still mad about the Icy Hot (I would be), this serves as my open apology to my younger sister.  I am so sorry for being an idiot and rubbing that menthol analgesic all over your dry, little hands.  If it helps, your hands are way cuter than mine…  Too soon?  Ok.  But I am sorry. Really I am.  So very sorry. 

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