Hair, Hair, Everywhere

It’s been a solid six months since I swore off shampoo (and conditioner) - an act which, while entirely impulsive and dubiously researched, I have stuck to with moderate success. My hair is still annoying, in that it frustratingly falls between curly and straight, brown and blond, ugly and really ugly...but that’s the way it’s always been. To be clear, it’s generally much happier than it was when I was using shampoo, and a good deal thicker with a bouncier texture, and that all seems good to me.

The entire point of the no-shampoo undertaking was tiny little baby birds, who were, along with many other diverse species, being adversely affected by the Pacific Garbage Heap, which is a content-sized pool composed of bits of plastic, which are often ingested by wildlife and wreaking havoc on the environment.

For all the attention that the Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill has received - which is, understandably, a lot, considering the damn thing is still gushing oil into the ocean - we’ve largely ignored the manufactured bits of oil which are pouring continuously out into the oceans, in the form of plastic waste. Not to compare armageddon scenarios, but who can say which is truly worse for the global ecosystem, and its future viability? My money's on the continent-sized pool of plastic that nobody's talking about.

So, why haven’t we banded together across nations and continents to clean up this plasticy mess? Well, really, there’d be no point. The fact is, Asia and the Americas are pumping plastics into the oceans at such a geyser-like rate that, even if we did get rid of all the existing plastic bits, we’d replace them within months.

Think about it - how many toothbrushes, bottle caps, and daisy razors have you alone thrown away in the past year? Times six billion, that’s a lot of plastic crap. And plastic is absolutely everywhere - just yesterday, I assembled an entirely metal and glass desk and accompanying metal and fabric chair, but both items were packed in enough toxic styrofoam and thin plastic bags to smother at least a dozen adorable belugas.

In an effort to remove my six billionth fraction of the problem, I decided to forgo as much plastic crap as possible - which is a lot harder than it sounds. There are quite a few items which, it seems, are exclusively packaged in plastics - things like masking tape, yogurt, and, well, pretty much all food. Even my 100% recycled toilet paper is swathed in a sheet of non-recyclable plastic, because life is ironic like that and, in the age of long-haul shipping and consumer contamination-dread, sealing everything inside a transparent plastic sheath seems to be the disturbing norm.

Coworkers have learned not to hand out plastic utensils to clients when I’m in the room because, when they do so, I inevitably end up sad and talking about dying baby sea turtles, chocking or poisoned on plastic waste and getting caught in free-floating swirls of debris. When guilt-induced coworkers offer to put back the plastic fork, I sigh, “there’s no point. The baby sea turtles are probably already dead.”

And, indeed, they probably already are.

But, not one to be morose or discouraged, I decided to continue making an effort to cut plastics out of my life...this time in the form of disposable razors.

I haven’t bought disposable razors in months - but, thanks to a small stockpile and the leg-shading months of winter, I hadn’t run out of razors until recently, when I was faced with two options - I could become one of those girls with billowing plumes of underarm hair, or I could start waxing.

Waxing seemed like a smart idea, until I realized that, not only did I not want to pour scalding home-made wax on my tender underarm regions, but that the prospect of ripping off said wax, and a good chunk of my hair and skin along with it, did not sound like a fun time.

Doesn’t life give women enough pain, what with the menses, the childbirth, the menopause...why must we inflict horrific, Inquisition-like torture upon ourselves? Isn’t this just another form of self-subjugation? Haven’t we passed that point? Aren’t we liberated?

I remain deeply conflicted, while the hair grows, slowly. God have mercy on us all.