If the economy winds up sucking our will to live, I’ll die with good hair

Everyone who knows me knows that I sweat the small stuff. And the big stuff. And all the stuff in between.

I basically walk around this planet with a 2 x 4 on my neck, hanging from which are two ginormous buckets which catch all my perspiration on a daily basis.

One of the things I sweat the most is money or, to be more precise, my perception of the lack thereof.

I wish I could say that I wasn’t always this way but the truth is, I entered this world tense and I blame that condition on my twin brother who hogged the womb and budged me so he could jump out first and forever be the older sibling, as well as the fact that I was left in the NICU to suck my thumb by myself and gain a few ounces so that I could leave the hospital a wide-eyed, suspicious, nervous little five pound bundle of joy a few days later. But not before demanding an itemized list of all expenditures and receipts. And my blankie.

Over the course of 42 years, I have honed my financial stressing skills to an art form. You have only to whisper “I want …” or “I need …” or “Let’s go …” before my brain will slam into high hear and start calculating the costs associated with such a request, computing the amount of time we have left before facing certain bankruptcy and relocatiion to a homeless shelter. It doesn’t matter if it’s a $7 shirt or a family vacation. In my mind, whatever it is, is just one step closer to complete and utter financial ruin.

I know that this is a reflection of the current economy and my own paranoia and I try to harness that paranoia, especially when it comes to the kids. Consequently, the kids want for nothing except Verizon phones with unlimited texting and Coach purses in which case I simply yell DREAM ON and ignore them. But when Helena breaks a cardinal rule and grows three inches in six months, I’d by lying if I said I didn’t at least entertain thoughts of decking her out in Zoe’s jeans and stapling a two foot hem on them. That, or hot gluing a cinder block on top of her head. And when Zoe complains of a stomach ache and questions the possibility of appendicitis, I admit to hollering something about opening wide and yanking out whatever ails her with a pair of barbecue tongs myself so as to save the cost of a yet another co-pay.

And while it doesn’t look like it when I’m hysterical and chasing Nate all over the living room, screaming something to the effect of OH MY GOD, ARE YOU ONLINE? IS THAT EBAY? GIVE ME THAT LAPTOP BEFORE I BEAT YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH IT, I do try to reign in my paranoia for my husband’s benefit as well. I fail miserably but at least I try.

Kind of.

But when it comes to buying something for me? Myself?

All bets are off.

Remember my post about buying a point and shoot camera? That is a manifestation of every single purchase I have ever made for myself. Doesn’t matter if what’s at stake is as extravagant as a camera, as trivial as a magazine or as fundamental as owning at least one shirt that actually fits over my boobs, did not experience the eighties and is not held together by holes.

I will question whether I really need the item, in which case it must meet the following criteria:

  1. Will it enhance my life in some way?
  2. Will it save me money in the long run?
  3. Will it make my thighs stop rubbing against each other?

The only two exceptions to the above are donuts and my hair.

Donuts, because … well, they’re donuts. Enough said.

And my hair because, with the exception of an annual pedicure at the beginning of spring, having my hair done every six weeks is the only thing I ever do for myself, my only vice, my only indulgence and really, I think it’s more of an inalienable right than an indulgence when the alternative is to walk around with a skunk line atop my head the size of a lasagna noodle, all because God was distracted and birthed me with stubborn, obstinate, pig headed, prematurely gray hair out the wazoo.

You know I’m speaking figuratively, right? Because otherwise … ewww.

I’ll walk around in perfectly good maternity tops even though my youngest child is eight. I’ll carry the same purse year round because black goes with everything, including sweats. I’ll wear period underwear thirty days a month. But by God, I will have my hair cut and colored every six weeks because I do not feel like eating dinner out with my husband while enduring the stares of everyone around us who look at him with pity and silently wonder when he’s going to cut the umbilical cord and stop eating out with his mom already.

I just had my hair cut and colored two days ago and yesterday, I stopped in at Ulta and bought myself these:


I love Kenra products. When I use them, it’s entirely possible that I might not have a bad hair day. And I say this of my own free will and volition because unfortunately, no one pays me to talk. Or type. Or even exist. I am not a spokesperson for anything or anyone. Except my kids and only if they’re good. Because if they’re not, I never saw them before in my life.

The texturizing taffy makes my hair all piecey and even spikey if I’m so inclined and when I am so inclined and Nate asks why I’m spending $17 when I can look as if I just rolled out of bed for free, I can shout WHAT MAKES A GROWN MAN PAY $80 FOR A CHIA PET? with awesome looking hair. And it sounds even better after a few spritzes of the finishing spray. Who knew there was a direct link between shiny hair and your larynx? Not me, that’s who.

Kenra meets all of the above criteria:

  1. Yes, it will enhance my life because not fighting with my hair saves me at least thirty minutes in the morning and one day, I may just decide to do a sit up in those thirty minutes and eventually earn one dented can out of a potential six pack of abs.
  2. Yes, it saves me money because as it turns out, buying ten jars of cheaper product only to toss them after two weeks because they suck rocks is not economical, especially when I can buy Kenra in the first place, which while more expensive, works great and lasts me eight months to boot. This type of reasoning is called logic. I failed logic in high school. My garbage can overfloweth with proof.
  3. Technically yes, because more than likely it will glue them together and thus, no more chaffing. However, this stuff is too expensive to waste on a part of my anatomy that no one will ever see unless their first name is “Doctor” and they’re holding a speculum in their hand and telling me to assume the position.

Now, seeing as how Helena kissed me goodbye this morning without so much as even trying to look as if she were standing on her tippy toes, I’m off to jackhammer a cinder block from our basement wall.


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24 thoughts on “If the economy winds up sucking our will to live, I’ll die with good hair”

  1. Avatar

    Well, I don’t use product, cuz I’m lazy that way… but yes, I have my hair short, and yes, I have to dye it more often, but yes, oh well! =)

    Did I mention my 6 year old now wears a size 3.5 shoe??? What’ll he be like when he’s 18? Eeks.

  2. Avatar

    oh my 7 year old went from fitting into his clothes on Saturday to 4 days later having outgrown them all, I had to make him shimmy into his shorts!!! THEY DO FIT LOOOK.. mum I can’t sit down in these shorts… I’m sure they will stretch.

    There is 10 more weeks of spring left and I have to buy him a whole new wardrobe and winter clothes.

    and good for you, I don’t do hair product but I like nice moisturiser and hand cream, my reward for even contemplating doing the dishes

  3. Avatar

    I will pay major money for something that will stop my thighs rubbing together.

    I just made my kids try on all their summer clothes & was delighted to see that everything fit ‘perfectly’ on both of them, giving me at least 2-3 months to slowly gather the next size up for the oldest so he can pass his stuff to the youngest. To be fair in the hand me down stakes, I buy a lot of ‘new’ stuff at Goodwill & consignment shops – cheaper and everyone is wearing someone elses clothes

  4. Avatar

    I’m totally with ‘ya on the products. Or at least I’m trying to be. I’m the moron that keeps experimenting with the cheap stuff in hopes that it will work for me – knowing full well that there is actually a product that will work – and battling with my stupid, cheapness while actually spending more money in some sort of self perpetuating cycle.

    It’s a sickness. I’m glad you’ve beat it. Any advice?!

  5. Avatar

    Never heard of those products before. Might have to check out the local Ultas.
    I have stringy thin STRAIGHT hair. The ONLY hair on my head with ANY texture at all is the gray hair at my temples. They have a mind of their own. I HATE GETTING OLDER!

  6. Avatar

    Oh my heck you are hilarious! I’m with you on the hair thing. I will spend $100 easy on hair and product, but won’t even budge $25 for a pedi. What’s wrong with that?

  7. Avatar

    Oh my goodness ur title had me cracking up. I feel my life consist of always searching for that perfect product. Always on the hunt and thus making myself a product guinea. Never stick to one cuz there has to be something better ;’ )

  8. Avatar

    ROTFLOL!!! Well you KNOW my head! With all this hair and all these curls nothing short of lard really works well but alas! I plunked down the 17$ for “Bedhead” curly hair stuff when I got my hair cut a few weeks ago…sigh. It just sort of sticks the curls together so at least they ARE curls and not globs of frizz with the lone gray ones popping out! LOL!

    Period panties? been there do that!

  9. Avatar

    Here, here! I support you in your justification for hair products and six-week hair regimen. We are the backbone of salon industry.

    I, unfortunately, go to the salon and buy the products, come home and attempt to use them, give up and add them to the ever growing collection of economically stimulating products.

  10. Avatar

    i’m with amy – i buy and give up just because i either forget i have them (means i have too many) or i don’t feel like taking the time… like the new design, btw!

  11. Avatar

    I’m so cheap that I color my own hair, but with salon products. My mom use to be a beautician and she gets the stuff for me and I order it off of ebay. And since its short, its easy to color.

  12. Avatar

    I need to be more concerned about money than I am, so please pass the shaker of Money Anxiety, OK? Maybe if I get some of yours and you make do with less of it, we will balance out to a normal level….?!

    I became a first time mom at age 41, and my hair has not been given more than 2-5 minutes a day since then. I don’t care if it looks like it was styled with a hand blender. LOL

  13. Avatar

    Oh my-lanta!

    I love Kenra. I have no use for the texturing putty, even though it smells fabulously, because my hair is too long. But we still have a full thing of it here in my bathroom because my mom bought it on a whim and has yet to use it. I, personally, just like to take it out and sniff it occasionally because YUM.

  14. Avatar

    You are hilarious! I totally here you about the gray hair. i started getting when i was 22. i have to color my hair every 2 months. If I let it go I would fit in with the elderly. I would just need a flower sweater and a cane.

  15. Avatar

    I’m cheap myself, but I haven’t convinced myself that my hair is worth the money. I’ve resigned myself to having my mother-in-law color my hair on her semi-yearly visit and then leaving me the goods so a friend down the street can do the roots in between. Oh, and the split ends? I just peel them. Yuck.

  16. Avatar

    >>Over the course of 42 years, I have honed my financial stressing skills to an art form. You have only to whisper “I want …” or “I need …” or “Let’s go …” before my brain will slam into high hear and start calculating the costs associated with such a request, computing the amount of time we have left before facing certain bankruptcy and relocatiion to a homeless shelter. It doesn’t matter if it’s a $7 shirt or a family vacation. In my mind, whatever it is, is just one step closer to complete and utter financial ruin.<<

    That is SO me! I have probably wasted at least half my life worrying about darn money. Which is pretty strange because there was only one period during the last recession where we truly were legitimately broke! But it’s always my biggest worry in life.

    But it’s funny, the difference between my “needs” and everyone else’s “wants”. I can drop $50-$100 bucks on scrapbooking items or clothes, but if my husband spends that kind of money on something I have fit!

    Oh well, we’ve all got to have our quirks!

  17. Avatar

    Dude, every co-pay, every dollar spent on my sinus infection problem and every single pair of new pants I must purchase for my pant-ripping hubby is driving US to bankruptcy. But atleast we’ll look good at the homeless shelter, I do not skimp on makeup, hair products or work-out videos.

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