As a fine haired gal, dry shampoo is my saviour. Here are a few home truths for those of us who are addicted to the dry stuff.
Running out is not an option
A large part of my life revolves around maintaining my supply of dry shampoo. I have three cans in my drawer right now – because God forbid I should have to wash my hair on a no wash day.
You dread someone touching your hair
It might look like a well-coiffed mane, but damn does your hair feel like crap. Thankfully it’s not the done thing to go around touching people’s hair, because everyone would be judging you hard.
You have to explain to your hairdresser
“So, when you wash my hair and the water is a kind of dark, muddy brown colour? It’s not dirt, honestly. It’s dry shampoo. I do wash my hair, it’s just…not everyday, you know? But I did yesterday! I WASH!”
You need to wash your hands after touching your hair
There’s no getting around it, this stuff is gross. One absent minded scalp-scratch has you coated in brown powder. Nice.
Your room resembles a volcanic aftermath
A layer of grey ash covers everything you own thanks to your daily spraying. My bedroom is basically a very small, East Midlands Pompeii.
This post was not sponsored by Batiste, but it should have been!