The thing is, my hair and skin just do not know what to do about the whole Utah situation. From the moment I cross the state border and head to Swig sugar cookies there’s all sorts of confusion, and no matter how much I assure everyone that “We’re home!” and “This is fun!” I just have a multitude of dry skin and hair situations on my hands.
Enter Dove dry shampoo.
You should know that things are about to sound very sponsored-posty around here, and as deep as my Twitter connection is with the folks over at Dove, we are, in fact, only on first name terms and I do not have an unlimited supply of Dove dry shampoo coming my way for this here post, but maybe I should because Dove is the best and no other brand of dry shampoo will do.
My journey into dry shampoo madness began last Saturday at a Utah Walmart where I risked my life and limb for my Dove goodness.
To give this some context, you should know some facts I cannot prove, but have heard through the grapevine: My parents live in South Jordan, the city in Utah with the highest number of children per capita. Utah has the highest number of children per capita of any state in the nation.
I WAS AT THE WALMART WITH THE MOST KIDS IN THE WORLD ON THE BUSIEST SHOPPING DAY IN THE WORLD.
Or so it felt.
Walmart didn’t have the dry shampoo, obviously, you know where this story is going, and perhaps Normal Me would have accepted this and gone home.
But this was not Normal Me. This was Post-Walmart Me, Determined Me, and Determined Me does not let things like near death stop my hair care regime.
Determined Me tries the next Walmart. And Target. Two Targets, in fact. And Sally Beauty Supply. And Bed Bath and Beyond. And Ross.
It was all a bit of blur, actually. Going into the stores. Taking pictures of the blank shelves that read “dry shampoo.” Making abrupt turns into random new stores, eyes aglow.
I could feel I was in crazy town, and yet I wouldn’t get off the crazy train. I had devoted my whole day to this, I would conquer!
Utah would not have the last laugh!
I sent out several texts to friends, pleading for rescue/validation in my quest. Hilary responded with the comforting, “Does anyone actually wash their hair in South Jordan?” Amy suggested that this dry shampoo search was a point of personal pride and she was behind me all the way.
She also told me Siri couldn’t help, meaning…
I was literally on my own.
Technology had failed me.
Target had failed me.
My mind was failing me.
By store seven I was in deep. I told myself I could live without dry shampoo. It wasn’t much of a life, this future of flat hair, but it was my future with flat hair, you know?
I could just go home. Regain my sanity. Take a shower.
Something. Anything. Bueller?
And then, a miracle occurred in the Riverton Walgreens. A miracle that looked a whole lot like three Dove dry shampoo bottles (though I couldn’t be sure due to a possible mirage situation).
I found Dove dry shampoo!
It was not a mirage!
My friends confirmed via text!
There’s more to this story including a fairly great celebration dance by yours truly, but all you really need to know is that when I went to bed, I sprayed that Dove dry shampoo like there was no tomorrow, and when I woke up, I had the bounciest, fluffiest hair of my life and it was all worth it.*
Every last store.
*Added for dramatic effect. My hair looked quite good, but in a regular Dove dry shampoo good way, and this whole thing was likely not worth it. Except for the tweet from Dove. That was worth it. Because you’re worth it.
Wait, wrong brand.
I’m still in recovery.*