(Warning: today’s blog contains language that may not be suitable for younger readers.)
Two nights ago I went to bed with a plan. I would make soap. Real soap. The kind you buy at county fairs from throw-back hippies, in long floral skirts, with frizzy curls, beaded necklaces and too much blue eyeliner. My soaps won’t be fancy but they will be functional: not too hard, not too soft, and they won’t turn into oily goo at room temperature or solid rock in the fridge.
At 1:00 am, as the light from my phone casts a soft glow, I read all the ins and outs of soap-making. Just like a making a Popsicle with oils and smelly stuff, right? Wrong.
I skip from one recipe to another, but they are all doom and gloom: “Wear safety goggles and rubber gloves. Lye can cause serious burns—or worse. Add lye to water, not the reverse. Don’t let it get too hot. Don’t let it get too cold. Don’t stand over it. Never leave it unattended. Use a heat resistant container. Keep it away from kids and pets. Don’t breathe in the fumes. Mix it outside…”
I should have stopped right there. It’s January. The thought of crouching over a steaming pot of lye in my front yard, sporting goggles and rubber gloves, was like a bad scene from a fairy tale. But no, I kept going.No pain, no gain, right? Then I got to the part about soap curing for four weeks. Uh-oh. I didn’t have four weeks. I had 22 more days (Yay!). Why is everything so labour intensive? I am really starting to feel for my ancestors. Ugh, it’s 2:00 am. Did I mention I like eight-hours sleep? Has not happened the entire week. Lights out.
The next morning starts out pretty smooth.
No hair laundering scheduled until after Pilates. I scrub my face with castor/coconut oil solution and let the cloth steam my thirsty skin. Then I rub my Rosemary Coconut Oil Eye Cream under my eyes and grapeseed oil everywhere else. This seems to be the best combo so far.
I am still brushing with regular toothpaste but have been toying with giving BS (baking soda for those just joining me) a shot. I weigh the pros and cons of fresh breath vs. being true to the trial. My moral compass rules. I have been hiding a bit behind Dr. K being dental and all, but I can do this. I’m on time this morning, and BS has been on my side so far.
I pinch some BS powder and sprinkle it all over my wet toothbrush bristles. I don’t think this is how you’re supposed to do it — likely there is a better recipe. I start to brush. What the %#@*? Disgusting! No wonder natural lifestyle practitioners are striving for daily inspiration. If I had to start each day with this toothpaste, I’d be looking for the silver lining too. F—–g gross!
The day goes downhill from there. After Pilates I wash my hair. The last mixture I tried was a disaster. Instead I make one with ACV(apple cider vinegar)/castile soap/jojoba oil figuring the fatty coconut milk was the culprit . Once again I rinse with ACV and water. Feeling positive I start to blow dry. And blow dry. And blow dry some more. Remember those Make Me Pretty Barbie styling heads from the 1970s whose hair everyone eventually washed? ‘Nuf said.
Redo. Not exactly what I was thinking when I came up with this blog concept. It’s the castile soap. After some Internet research I come across a comments about how it’s also good for laundry, dirty dishes, mopping floors and cleaning toilets. I am washing my head with the same ingredients used for cleaning s–t? This has officially gone too far. I also discover many sentences contain “castile” “hair” and “straw.” That crap is never going near my scalp again.
Head bent over the bathtub, I revert to H2O and BS again, rinse, throw in two eggs for good luck, and “condition” once more with ACV and water. This time I use a bucket instead of a squirt bottle. MUCH more effective. I can’t help but smile at the irony. I literally have egg on my face—but it worked!
Gisele Bündchen, eat your heart out.