Some More Hair-Raising Atrocities

Last fall I posted a blog about hair. But apparently I underestimated the “everywhere” part cause oh man, I hadn’t seen nothing yet.

Why do people find hair so luxurious, so glorious, so glamorous? Commercials, celebrities, photographs, magazines, ads - so many forms of media leave us girls (and the occasional superficial man) with an acute case of hair envy. 


Why?

Hair is gross. It’s keratin - dead, filamentous cells - and yet we bleach it, dye it, blow-dry it, cut it, style it, pull it, spray it, comb it, straighten it, braid it - all in the name of beauty.

While I count myself among those plagued by the stigma surrounding baldness (poor men! POOR women!), that doesn’t really change my viewpoint on how dreadfully vulgar stray strands of hair can be. Let me count the (additional) ways.

There’s the free-falling follicle you feel tumbling down your arms and back - creepy. And chances are, that creepy little tress is gonna lodge itself in some inconvenient crevice until your next shower. Ew.

There’s the massive clumps of hair in your brush that must be cleaned out - nasty business I say, nasty. But if you don’t do it (and do it often), then you’re just brushing your clean little locks with dirty deadness. Brushes full-o-hair skeeve me out...

...especially on brushes where there should NOT be hair. Oh yeah, I have recently experienced hair wrapped around my toothbrush.

As my Sonicare was scrubbing and vibrating and rumbling away, I felt that super distinct sharpness poking my tongue (how do cats DO it??) I pulled the brush out of my mouth and nearly spit out my mouthful of Marvis on my wooden floor.

I found this all quite perplexing seeing as how I brush n’ blow-dry in my bedroom. How did I stray hair end up on my TOOTHBRUSH?

I pulled and tugged and unraveled as best I could - but I didn’t finish scrub-a-dub-dubbing my pearly whites that night. I was far too disgusted.

And though I thought I had taken care of the offensive fallen-follicle felon, I did NOT. It was still THERE the next time I brushed. Ick, ick, ick.

But I suppose D) All of the Above is nein, nada, nothing compared to…drum roll please…when other people’s hair is in your food.

Yeah, yeah - I’m sure we ingest all kinds of bugs and dirt and, yes, hair in our lifetime. But does that make it OK? No! NO!

This past weekend I had two such unlucky experiences - the first was a bug on my sangria Saturday night. The second was a hair in my aloo matar Sunday night. And it was from Whole Foods. Whole Foods!

Always happens with Indian Food. Always! Two years ago there was an exactly identical culprit - short, thick, black, and juicy (though that is a disguuuusting word to use, it did, in fact, look juicy) - in my vegetable malai (a few months later a friend of a friend got dysentery from the same restaurant, Ghandi Cafe...I’m glad my incident was only a hair).

And while I was sick to my stomach over that juicy hair in my hot food bar meal, I wanted to keep eating it. Sucks! I had a few bites from the opposite end of the bowl then tossed it.

Needless to say, I don’t think I’ll be eating Indian anytime soon.