Monday, November 26, 2012

Dry Shampoo and a Panic Attack

A few weeks ago, AG had her very first dentist appointment.  And, as one of my Facebook friends so appropriately inquired, "did she like the dentist better than you do?"

Well, it really wouldn't take much.

Y'all.  I totally had a clever strategy. I basically spent the 2 weeks prior to her appointment talking up the dentist, until AG believed him to be something of a cross between Woody from Toy Story, and her favorite Backyardigan.

(Because that wouldn't be super creepy.)

(Also, you may have noticed that I ascribe to the "fake it til you make it" parenting philosophy.  A.k.a. the "blatantly lie to your child so she never develops your extreme phobia of flossing" philosophy. If you want to read more about that little nugget of child-rearing wisdom, I'm sure you can find it in all of the good parenting books.)

Since we were in a little bit of a rush, I decided to throw some dry shampoo into my slightly sort of, okay fine, heinously dirty hair.  I figured it didn't much matter what I looked like, since my main objective was to prevent a toddler panic attack.

Or a mommy panic attack.

(Which may have been more likely.)

We get there, and AG is SUPER excited.  And she did great, y'all.  I could see that she was a tiny bit uncomfortable with the suction-y thingy, but can you really blame her? It could definitely double as a torture device.

Check it out: She is the picture of confidence.
Maybe she can start attending my dental exams for me.

At any rate, she has her cleaning, picks a treasure from the treasure chest, and we head out. (Side note: Adult dentists should totally have a treasure chest.  Filled with Amex gift cards, and spa treatments as the prizes. Who's with me?)

On the way to the lobby, I decide to make a pit stop at the restroom.  Because my bladder clearly isn't up to the 5 minute drive back home.  As I'm washing my hands, I glance into the mirror and see that my hair is completely white at my hairline.

I am not going to lie, y'all.  I freaked the heck out.  I was all, when did my hair turn white?  And more importantly, why has no one told me??? 

(I mean, I totally plan to rock some white hair one day, when I'm significantly older.  I also plan to rock some sassy cowboy boots and a cute maxi skirt with my white hair, but that's another story entirely.)

After some deep breathing and a speed dial to my hair colorist, my logical side kicks in and whispers, Hey, wait a minute, Rash Sherri.  Your hair is white EXACTLY where you applied the dry shampoo.

Why, yes.  Yes, it is, Logical Sherri.  I can now discontinue my panic attack at the pediatric dentist's office.

Which is not only embarrassing, it is a whole new level of sad.

Later, a friend of mine who's done some acting hears my story, and is all, oh yeah!  We always use dry shampoo to "gray people out."

And that is the story of how my dry shampoo went to live in the trashcan.

You're welcome.

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