When I was in hospital, during the early early days of my recovery, I realized they were going to do the unthinkable: they were going to take away anorexia, the crazy part of my life that offered the illusion of comfort and safety.  Seems obvious, but I balked anyway, as I sat behind the windowed door of my isolated hospital room on the pediatric ward.  What was I supposed to do with myself?  I had to fill that aggressively-razed gap – with something program-approved and as far from destructive as possible.

Thus began my shampoo obsession.  Washing my hair became my new source of comfort.  And I needed a lot of comforting! I wasn’t allowed to shower or bathe by myself, but there was a large sink with a tall gooseneck faucet in my room that I could use any time.  Pretty soon I was washing my hair in that sink as many as six times a day, escaping into an aromatic world of silky suds and warm steamy water.  My mum, the saint that she is, didn’t ask too many questions about why I needed more shampoo; instead she brought me a wide variety of scented shower gels and hair products over the course of my hospital stay, knowing it was easing the process.

Shower Lineup

Today my unbelievably patient boyfriend puts up with an enormous collection of bottles and bars crowding our shower and bathroom counters, but concedes (with much eye rolling) the optimism of having a fail-safe gift or peace offering idea.  What can I say – better shampoo than crack, right?

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