Beery Tales

We sometimes spend too much time indulging in a particular interest, so much so that it is generally disapproved of by others, and though we are not considered eccentrics, yet the indulgence yields little to us. Such an excess is termed as a 'fetish'. Women often have a fetish for something that relates distinctly to their feminism. A fetish ranges from something optionally tiring, like cleanliness, to something apparently splendid and impressive, like housekeeping, and then something typically crazy like beauty, personal grooming, fitness and then women often have that characteristic obsession for clothes, accessories and jewelry. I, myself, most shyly admit to having a fetish for beautiful hair! I strongly believe that great hair compliments a woman's looks more than all the adornments that she may try.

I am inherently blessed with voluminous, dark tresses that, at the moment, seem to be en voyage to losing their glorious sheen. My erstwhile youthful years, coupled with a stress free life, and not to miss the adequate climatic conditions of the region that I once lived in, contributed immensely to my flaunting a healthy mane. I took little efforts to earn the admiring and envious glances of women not endowed with as lustrous a crown. Over the years as the biological clock ticked on and I trailed my husband to the Middle East, I soon realised that the desalinated water in the region for domestic use and personal care, became the strongest enemy of my hair. Within weeks of my arrival here, the tress, in open rebellion, began to part with the rest of my physical self. I started losing hair in tufts. Thereon began the ongoing agony of bidding a continual farewell to something I had once proudly possessed.

My rounds of Dubai, the city that I happily settled down in, led me to discover that hair treatment salon and parlors galore here. Numerous hair treatments exist, most of which I learnt upon my arrival here. Pharmacies and stores do a thrift business not just with skin care products but the ones for hair care, as well. The leading brands in treatment products for smoother and stronger hair, across the world find their way into stores and professional salons here. While shampoos and conditioners are one of the very basic, intrinsic hair care products, there exists a long list of names in specialist items like keratin wax, chocolate wax, mousse, masks, souffles, cream, sprays, serums, hot oil treatments, the very strange 'snake oil' and numerous other potions, some of which until now had been alien to me. I started to loosen my purse strings on buying anything and everything that promised to restore the lost glory to my hair that had by now reduced to frazzled frizzes.

I started visiting parlors for different hair treatments that were spoken of as tried and tested therapies. Not to mention the various home remedies that followed at the behest of concerned friends, well-wishers and wellbeing magazines. I patiently waited for the desired results, yet nothing majorly helped. I felt horrible and helpless! It seemed as though every day was a bad hair day in the literal sense of the term.

Friends and acquaintances shared similar stories of follicular disasters and 'hairy tales' were told at many a parties and get togethers. I would often be an intent listener to all such tales. It was on one of these occasions that a friend suggested the use of flattened beer as a final rinse for hair. I had known about this home remedy as a great tool for softening the mane but had never tried it, probably because the lingering smell of beer somehow failed to ensnare me into using it. Smelling good is always a top priority for women, and the reek of stale beer, I was sure would be an outright declivity to one's femininity. But, in order to tame my tresses, it was time to get them boozed!

I found myself desperately giving in, although with little expectation. Hesitantly, I carried a can of flattened beer to the shower the very next day. The beverage had never caught up with my preference of drinks, and so it felt weird carrying beer to the shower. After the elementary round of shampoo and conditioning, I finally rinsed the frizziness with beer and stepped out of the shower, only to acquire the disapproval of my children, who disdainfully said that I smelt foul ! To my utter dismay they tried to stay away from me. It surely did not feel right having these little ones get sniffy. That being a Saturday afternoon, I tried to distract them by taking them out on their promised trip to the beach where the air felt refreshing.

Wrapped in an eternal cycle of unrelenting chore, I hurriedly blow dried my hair, all the while expectant of some miracle, as an end result. And this day was one when my silent prayers seemed to be getting answered, for what I arrived at was mind blowing, absolutely astounding! The instant feeling of softness in my hair amazed me, like never before. I had not felt like this in all these months. I could see lustrous strands of black and they appeared incredible. The silky feeling made me run my fingers through the new softness constantly, and I felt almost tipsy with joy. I just could not believe that an ordinary, most commonly found ingredient had done something extraordinary. I began punching the air in delight, even as the fresh, satiny fluff on my head kicked around in self-glorification. I could feel the kick, the high, call it what you may. Seldom do I share such episodes and experiences with my husband, to whom they probably appear out right absurd and rather vain.

Thus, without any knowledge of the triumphant conclusion that I had arrived at, he walked merrily on the beach, along with the kids. I followed them, still soaked in the delight of my new grand slam. With a spring in my steps, I caught up with him. The cool air on the beach blew against our faces and gently lifted my feathery, shiny locks. As the tantalising aroma of beer in my hair wafted towards my 'beer bellied' husband, I felt him come close to me, his face nuzzling into my hair. I was insanely amazed. The beer had not just worked; it had worked wonders! Something that large amounts of delicate creams, rich serums, refreshing gels or sumptuous fragrances had failed to bring about, this ordinary, smelly beer had. My fetish did not go in vain. A can of beer is now a regular sight in my bathroom. The use and the hangover persists!