Food for Hair

I’m spending Sunday morning with a plastic bag on my head. Not trying to kill myself or anything, this is crazy in a very organic and healthy kind of way.
When I went to get a hair cut earlier this week, the hairdresser told me what I already know, plus some.
Ever since I made the very wise choice to get a volume perm in Ecuador and ended up paying 20 dollars to get my hair completely fried, it’s been, well, fried.
But this Cd’A based saloon lady just couldn’t get over it

“Oh my GOD, honey your hair is just FRIED!”
“Well, yeah…it’s really dry and stuff. I know”
“Not DRY, it’s terrible I mean JUST TERRIBLE!”
“mm hmm…”

And I told her the whole story, which is neither long nor complicated, and she kept asking me about what chemicals the Ecuadorian lady used and how long she left the different solutions in and stuff and I couldn’t really answer because
a) this was in September
b) I don’t speak Spanish so it’s not like I was communicating with her
c) I’m not a hairdresser so I left it to her to do her job

It was like when you watch a detective show on TV, how people think they don’t remember anything but when asked the right questions, there is actually a lot of information stored way back in a hidden storage room of your mind. So after about 15 minutes of detangling my terrible strands while digging through dusty boxes in my mental storage room, the stylist decided her South American colleague had not only used a method abandoned in the 80’s but also neglected to put neutralizer in my hair, leaving it to keep getting more and more fried in the sun for days to come.

“And look at this” holding up a piece of my hair “I mean JUST LOOK AT IT! Your poor poor, split ends… it’s not even like hair anymore, it’s like straw, like STRAW!”

At this point I was getting pretty annoyed. I mean fine, looking back it was not a good plan to go to a hairdresser I couldn’t really talk to and let her put chemicals in my hair for dirt cheap. But it’s not like I asked a wolf to watch my lamb, I want to think it was a normal tourist mistake that could have happen to anyone.
Also, the hair she was talking about is on my head. I see and touch it daily. There is no need to describe to me just how TERRIBLE it is. I know it.

Anyways, she combed and washed and put Moroccan oils in my straw for free and told me to go home and get on a serious healthy hair plan. I felt like I imagine fat people feel after the doctor tells them to loose weight or die, this lady meant business.
And so, here I sit now with a very ripe banana mixed with olive oils mushed into my hair, covered with a plastic bag and a hot towel. Dylan is playing soccer and I’m debating whether to leave the concoction in my hair a bit longer or jump in the shower right now and wash it out before he comes home and shares with me his thoughts on putting food in your hair and stick your head in a plastic bag…