It’s Monday, granola heads, and on this particular Monday, Ima talk hair.
This is not a beauty blog, per se, but the old adage is true: look good, feel good. When I’m feelin’ foyne, I take better care of myself. I radiate confidence. I send positive, gracious vibes out into the universe and they boomerang right back.
Conversely, if I’m feeling hideous (I’m a woman, after all, and a dramatic one at that), I vibrate at a lethargic, woebegone frequency, with frenzied spurts of pissiness. OBV, those icky tremors fly back and smack me right in the soul. Mothers on the street cover their children’s eyes. The homeless people in my alley try to welcome me into the fold. Even the cashiers at Trader Joe’s are less freakishly loquacious (you in the Hawaiian shirt: I know I recoiled a little bit the last time you asked what I planned to do with that tempeh and then proceeded to invite me to your sister’s wedding, but does our relationship mean nothing now that I have a zit/feel bloaty/need to touch up my roots?!)!
No one really cares about what I look like – at least none of the people I want in my life – and rational Rose knows that. But unreasonable, unbathed, unglamorous alterna-Rose doesn’t. And she’s sort of an ass.
Oh hey crazy tangent. But there’s more! Health is about expressing yo’self! Treating yo’self! And nourishing… your hair.
As with most things in life, when it comes to my hair, I’m high maintenance-crunchy. Like my million dollar cacao nib and coconut flour fueled vegan diet, I put a fair amount of effort and expense into having dirty hippie hair. You see, for the past two years, I’ve been trying to grow out a pixie cut:
(Why yes, @MichelleSoffen, that is your right eye.)
I tried everything to grow it out. I took prenatal vitamins. I rubbed rosemary oil into it every night. I bought that weird horse shampoo. With these efforts, my only accomplishment was simultaneously smelling like an Italian restaurant and a well groomed mare.
Then I (unwisely) bleached it blond and it was crunchy in a bad, bad chemical way. And then I stopped washing it.
Before you get all “ugh, gross!” on me, know this: the more you wash your hair with lathering shampoo, the unhealthier your hair will be. And unhealthy hair no grow My mom is rolling her eyes right now, but it’s true: shampoo strips the nutrients from your strands, and with naturally dry, wildly poofy hair like mine, I knew I couldn’t be a Pantene girl. For about a year (yes… a year), I spritzed on a rosewater/apple cider vinegar solution in lieu of a clarifying shampoo every week or so, and deep conditioned a few times a week with an argan oil conditioner.
And I occasionally looked like a grease ball. (Now my mom is nodding her head in agreement.) This, in conjunction with the inevitable post-Pixie mullet made me a dead ringer for Uncle Jesse. I didn’t want to smell like an Italian restaurant, nor did I want to look like I had resourcefully used my own head to sop up olive oil in the absence of gluten free bread. So I invested in DevaCurl!
I first heard about DevaCurl here, on one of my absolute favorite blogs (Sarah’s hair post is an anomaly, too… but super informative, nonetheless!), and had been curious about if for awhile. Plus, I was drawn to the name…
DevaCurl is a hair care system built around No-Poo (giggle giggle!), or cleansing conditioner. It cleanses hair without lather and leaves essential oils in tact. Bonus: it restores your hair to its natural texture. I’m proof!
Pre-peroxide, I, too, was a curly girl! I thought I was stuck with a head of humdrum fluff for the rest of my life, but DevaCurl gave me my groove back… and then some. I’ve just started to use DevaCurl No-Poo and conditioner every few days, and refresh with DevaCurl scrunch gel and spray on moisturizer almost every day. If I don’t have time to wash (still crunchy), I work in some Ojon dry shampoo. Now here’s where the high maintenance part comes into play: this sh*t set me back 50 bucks. But I’d say it’s worth it for hair that feels clean and healthy.
Totally worth it
Are you high maintenance-crunchy? What’s your hair story?