Weird Things About Me

It's a bit of a dark and trying time, what with the looming prospect of another four years of an absolute horror in the White House and the uncertain spectre of COVID-19. While we're all hoping against hope and washing our hands singing various twenty-second song snippets, I thought I would share some entertaining weird things that I've noticed about myself lately to pass a few minutes.

Do you ever read those articles about the best way to wash your face or hair? Apparently the new thing is shampoo that's not really shampoo - what is it then? I'm not entirely sure. Regular shampoo, though, apparently is mostly water and sodium laurel sulfate, which dries your hair and perpetuates the need for products.

Oh, here it is. Bumble & Bumble's no-shampoo shampoo is 'aloe vera and a combination of essential oils'. This matches another article where a woman talks about never using soap on her face - to clean off her makeup she has a ritual that only involves oils. OILS. She leaves them on for a few minutes and then wipes them off, leaving her face soft and "sparkling clean".

AGGGGHHHHH. MY FACE IS NOT A CAST IRON FRYING PAN. Here is my problem. I want detergents. I want surfactants. Give me lather or give me death! I once bought some Body Butter from Crabtree & Evelyn because it smelled amazing. I had to give it away because I literally could not bear to smear something called Butter on my skin. I know this is not helpful because my hair and my skin will be dry. I WANT them to be dry. I'm in an eternal battle to have dry skin that isn't actually peeling off and dry hair that isn't a ball of frizz. My hair and skin, it should be said, produce enough oil to ... I can't do it, anything I say will be just too gross. I wash my face several times a day. I apply an amount of moisturizer about the size of an eraser on a pencil to the tiny area of my face that is dry. The thought of applying oils to my face or hair makes me shudder viscerally.

I do moisturize my body last thing at night, after I shower, before climbing into bed. I have searched far and wide and determined that Aveeno is the combination of moisturizing but non-greasy that will make me able to use it. A few nights ago I ran out of Aveeno. I opened the cupboard to see if I had other lotions left over. This is a lie - I opened the cupboard to see WHAT lotions I had bought in a fit of optimism and abandoned for one nutty reason or another. I found something with a bourbon vanilla scent. I squirted some experimentally and gingerly applied it to my legs. My bonkers self did not freak out, so I continued with relief. Maybe I don't need to buy more Aveeno right away! I though. Maybe I can use up the rest of the stuff I have! Maybe I've changed! Maybe I've grown!

The next night I put some bourbon vanilla lotion in my hands and went to rub it on my arm.

"WHAT THE JESUS PANCAKE-FLIPPING CHRIST ARE YOU DOING?" my self shrieked.

"Um, it's the same lotion we used last night" I told my self.

"I'D RATHER BATHE IN PIG'S BLOOD" my self howled.

"Uh, okay, fine, no need to be dr..." "PIG'S!! BLOOD!!!"

Sigh. I bought more Aveeno.

I have never wanted a sonic shower a la Star Trek more than this winter. The whole perimenopause thing means I still want to take multiple showers a day (yeah, I'm weird, keep up, that's why we're here, they are generally very short and don't waste much water) but the hormonal stuff and dry skin means it's not the greatest idea, plus I just get weary of the whole water-soap-dry routine for this body that I try to be sympathetic to but is just the slightest bit of a drag right now.

Oh! Also! My usual winter uniform is: at work, leggings and a tunic and boots. At home, leggings and a t-shirt and Roots cabin socks. It's simple, it's easy, it requires little thought. The first time it was cold enough to put on leggings this year myself bellowed "WHAT THE ENTIRE HULA HOOPING FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Um, putting on leggings like we do every single..." "OUR LEGS ARE SUFFOCATING!!!"

"Oh for... seriously?" "*GASP!! CHOKE!! EVERYTHING...GOING....DARK..." "Oh for fuck's sake, FINE!" I had to buy pajama pants to wear at home and actual pants to wear at work, except when I wear a dress and tights, which APPARENTLY are thin enough for my drama-queen legs to breathe through.

So whatever else is going on in the world, take comfort that you are probably, at the least, less wacky than yours truly.

I will finish with a snarky comment I exercised great forebearance by NOT making on Facebook last night. I joined an Instant Pot recipe group even though I'm still too scared to use mine (good thing I dropped that on a  post where I've already admitted to being weird). Last night someone said excitedly "last night I made a spaghetti squash!" and some other charmer retorted "You didn't MAKE a spaghetti squash, you COOKED one!" It looked like the original poster was gracious enough to let the comment pass, so I refrained from commenting "And you don't just HAVE an asshole, you ARE one."