Wash Outta My Hair

I swear, I have never enjoyed a shower so much as the one I just took.

I don't mean to shower and tell, but I've had some good showers in my life. But none, not even the first shower after Colin was born, can compare to this. It had been four days since my last, but that's not really the point. I've gone longer on hiking and camping trips. Then, I was moving and sweating and so beyond dirty that I was back to smelling good. Smelling natural. Today, I reeked of hospital and surgery. I still had the blue surgery prep stained into my poor, re-stretched belly. I was caked with Sick, and there is nothing so awful as that. My hair took three shampoos to feel normal again and I threw out my loofah after using it tonight. It was that kind of shower, the kind that leaves you a new person when you're done. I stepped out lighter and fresher than I've ever been, and not a moment too soon. Even Sally, the worst smelling creature on the planet, wouldn't sit near me.

However, there was a down side to this rejuvenating experience. Since I stopped nursing Colin, I have been going through the Great Hair Exodus of 2009. As my hormones weave their way back to normal, my hair is falling out. I hear that this is normal and have read other women's horrified stories, but it has been impressive. Never, though, has it been so impressive as tonight when, after four days of neither washing nor combing my hair, I cleaned it. The term "handfuls" does not cover it. I think "bucketfuls" would be more fitting. Before I had even shampooed the second time, I was standing in a foot of dirty water, so clogged had my drain become. I bent over painfully to remove the hair plug only to find wads of hair falling off my head. It was like a neglected Chia Pet, except this was ME. MY HEAD.

I'll be going wig shopping tomorrow, methinks.