Lockdown in Paris : Day Thirty-Two
Friday 17th April
8h20 : FRIDAYYYYYY MEANNNSSS hair wash dayyyyyy! If only my no-shampoo shampoo and my aloe vera hair mask weren’t in destinations unknown I would be able to celebrate even more enthusiastically. Since 3pm yesterday the parcel has been “On its way to a post office” - so given that that was roughly 17 hours ago I can only imagine the post office concerned is located in Switzerland. The saga continues.
9h : Yes you are quite right, I published yesterday’s post today too, for reasons that will become apparent in said post.
10h : Tea and Cromwell.
11am : Today’s Morning Movie with Leonie-of-Leek is The Dark Crystal which I have never seen. I’m really into the morning movie session.
13h31 : Got a bit distressed by the baked potato in the oven that was just screaming for about fifteen minutes straight in a really quite guilt-inducing manner. I just stared at the oven in horror while it went EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEE-EEE-EE-EEE-EEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! Geez. Will eat it and put it out of its misery.
14h : Ate the screaming baked potato while searching for something to watch on Netflix. Spent entire lunch looking for something, never found anything, that was lunch.
14h36 : Opened the other bar of Milka. We all know how that ended. I was supposed to eat that this weekend and it’s not even this weekend yet. Fail.
15h35 : Hair is washed and looking passable. Basically the Week In Hair goes:
Friday Morning : Oil slick. Solid mass of shiny-in-a-bad-way hair made darkly brunette by a week’s head grease. When removed from the high ponytail it’s been in since Monday, the hair sculpture stays pretty much in place.
Friday Afternoon : Wash hair with preferred method based on level of hair hate for that week. Might be just hot water. Might be the tiniest bit of shampoo you ever struggled to see. Might be just conditioner. (Today it was just conditioner, but not loads of it, and it came out pretty well).
Saturday : Wake up with everything crossed that my hair will be less greasy than it usually is the day after I’ve washed it. Back before the Age of Coronavirus it was an oil slick the next day - an entire can of dry shampoo could barely render it acceptable. This drove me to distraction - hence my drastic Age of Coronavirus non-hair-washing antics heresoforewith mentioned.
Sunday : Starting to look a bit ropey again, but a blitz of dry shampoo gets me an extra day. This is the beginning of the next four days, which will be a slippery decline into Solid Fat Hair Mass. So basically, by...
Monday : ...it’s all over. Up it is scrawped, into the high-ponytail it will stay in until Friday. Every day I take it down and brush it and brush it and brush it and brush it, and massage my scalp for about ten minutes, which - weirdly - does make a massive difference. Repeat. Wait until Friday. Repeat. Wait until end of lockdown. Cross everything.
You’d think “Why bother?” You’d think, “Clean hair really isn’t that much of a chore, is it?” You’d think, “ Just wash it!” And I hear you, but the thing is, and I’m only being slightly ridiculously dramatic when I say - this is a war. I am at war with my hair. This war has been raging for probably around 15 years.
When I washed it every day, it was simultaneously dry and greasy (Yep, it is possible to get the ‘best’ of both those worlds - I lucked out), it broke, it was as flat as a pancake, my scalp was both greasy and flakey (Oh look, another “best of” jackpot!) and then it got almost impossibly greasy in fewer than 24 hours. I would go to bed with delightful hair and wake up as if I had slept-walked into a deep-fat fryer. So did I win from daily washing? No sir, I did not.
Since washing it once a week YES it has been horrid to the point of revulsion at the back end of the week but for one, my fretful scalp has chilled the hell out. It’s clear, and clean, it doesn’t itch, it’s not painful. Neither is my hair falling out or breaking at an alarming rate. It looks thicker (that’ll be the grease that’s left, but who’s to say my hair doesn’t need it?) and falls better, and feels stronger. All these battles I am hoping to win and ERGO the war. Who knows where I’ll be after three more weeks of chip-pan-head? You’ll know! Because I’ll tell you. But for now, I’m glad to say I’m not hating the pay-off.
15h55 : I can’t believe I ate all that chocolate again. (I can, realistically). I actually can’t believe it. (I can. I would do it again.)
17h02 : Finally rang my aunty back after feeling guilty about it since she called on Wednesday night. She spent the entire phone call thinking I was my sister, and it got to the awkward point where I couldn’t correct her, so I had to go with it. So in the end the call didn’t even rid me of my guilt because technically she still thinks I haven’t rung her back. Then had to call my sister to say she had just had a fifteen minute conversation with our aunty even though she hadn’t.
17h43 : Picked the quiz teams for Quiz Night #5. I don’t want to ruin my flawless record, so am determined to continue my losing streak.
18h46 : Video called my mum and dad who were busy making their fish and chips for Friday night tea. Told them they have to stay in until there’s a vaccine, and I was only half joking. (I was not in any way joking).
19h30 : Friday night starts here. I’m off via the magical medium of Zoom to Manchester, and from thence back to France to Quiz Night. I anticipate a Saturday hangover - another lockdown tradition to add to the collection.
