For the past 6 months to a year, my hair has turned into a petulant child willfully disrupting my serenity whilst I unsuccessfully struggle to discipline and maintain. Now, it might sound narcissistic and/or materialistic to be so concerned by such a plight, but the reality is that my hair is like the crown on my princess head, giving me my power, strength, and sense of self. Just like Jack Donaghy says, "After all, your hair is your head suit.”
During my first trip to Paris, I had realized that the water in this beautiful city was none too helpful in making me personally beautiful. I blamed it on the water pressure at first, spending about a month never being able to fully get the conditioner out of my hair. It was a sad time, to be sure. Try as I might, I couldn't get one single strand to keep a steady curl. I have always said that my curling iron is my magic wand. Having no curls is like having the frosting removed from an otherwise scrumptiously adorable cupcake. I eventually conquered this dilemma by rigorously brushing my hair in the shower, forcing the residue from my locks, and returning triumphantly to the land of pretty pastry. Since I was only in Paris for two months, however, it didn't dawn on me that this could actually me the root of a much greater and darker evil.
Now that I have been in this great City of Light for over a year and a half, the plaguing pestilence has resurged and grown nothing but stronger. I noticed it first when my hair, normally prone to baby-doll-like softness started to become oddly course. After dying it an especially bright blonde color one time, I assumed it was the dye that had turned my Dorothy-like tresses into the Scarecrow's wig. Not only was it impossible to sculpt or maneuver, but it began to break in the middle as I tried desperately to run my brush through its tangle of weeds. Though I had noticed the patches of white lingering on my pots and pans after cleaning on occasion, it took me a long time to realize that the water I use to lather my layers day in and day out is so saturated with calcium and minerals that it is literally corroding my sweet curls. After trying coconut oil and apple cider vinegar in addition to several different types of shampoo and conditioners to solve the problem, I finally found my answer... the miracle cure, the magical elixir of life... DISTILLED WATER.
In a stroke of sheer brilliance, I finally found the right combination of words to google and come up with the answer I had so been longing for. I went to the store, bought myself a large jug of eau déminéralisée and allowed a waterfall of hope to cleanse my tragic soul. After one wash, literally ONE! My hair regained its traditional sheen, its gossamer radiance, and I did in fact dance around my tiny little apartment in glee. Now, I can't remotely pretend that this continued effort will be practical or convenient in any way, but it is worth the effort... The weight of sticky gooey dishrag hair was literally lifted off my shoulders, the crown of freedom and glory replaced in its wake. As my hair be stilled my heart, my heart distilled my hair with the tears of purest water and all was right with the world.