Live! At the Whiney-A-Go-Go!

December 2, 2007

Hippies do it all the time, so how hard can it be?

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 12:03 pm

The last time I ventured into hippie beauty products, I put on patchouli in the same quantity as I would for a nice light eau du toilette. Even after scrubbing my skin to shreds, my odor made even the homeless guy get off the bus with eyes watering.

But henna can’t be so bad, right? It seemed easy when the mehendi artist decorated a friend’s hands for her wedding. I have known people who use it. There’s an excellent website with very high quality ingredients and tons of information, instructions, and advice.

Maybe it’s easier when you’re high.

Imagine waking up the morning after a party to discover that you’d left out the guacamole. The surface gets all brown and gross, while underneath the green color is kind of unappetizing to start with. Now imagine that your cat had found this bowl of guacamole and ate the entire thing. Now imagine that you’re cleaning the litterbox after the cat’s body had violently rejected this too-rich meal. Now that that stuff and smear it all over your hair. That’s what using henna is like.

I knew that it would stain my hairline, and the preventive layer of vaseline prevented that, mostly. OK, sort of. I knew that I had to wear clumsy, uncomfortable plastic gloves. Next time (ha! next time!) I’ll be wearing latex gloves under the plastic gloves, since one layer isn’t sturdy enough when working with this stuff. Do they make latex gloves in elbow length? So now I have palms so orange that George Hamilton would be proud. I swear, it looks like I’m the staff masseuse at the Willy Wonka factory. And how do I get the gloves back on when they started to slip around? By tugging them up with my teeth. And getting henna on my nose. And even sitting here, after all the application and spattering and cleanup and sink-scrubbing (yes, it remains orange), the stuff is still not staying put on my head, and I have to keep wiping up the drips as they ooze down my face. All I can say is that I’m very very glad to have a hairstyle that covers my hairline, ears, neck, and perhaps with creative blow-drying even my nose.

The only towels I have are white, but I’d have had to sacrifice one no matter what kind of color process I’d use. And guess what? I managed to keep the stuff off my towel. If only my ears were so lucky.

So now I have this nightmare mud pie from hell on my head, wrapped in saran wrap. And I have a couple of hours to contemplate exactly how the hell I’m going to get it off my head without clogging my bathtub drain and making a tub ring that would put Dennis the Menace to shame. If it were summer I might go outside and hose off as much of the goo as possible before showering out the last bits. But it’s 30 degrees out. And I can’t get a shirt on over this mess anyway.

I’m praying that at least the doorbell doesn’t ring anytime soon.

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