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I Love This. No, I Don't Love This. Yes, I Do.

When I was young and had no appreciation for it, my hair was long, thick, curly, and shiny.  My mom used to put it up in (usually lopsided) pigtails, except when I went through my Laura Ingalls Wilder phase and I wanted it in two braids.  What can I say - Little House on the Prairie was rather popular at the time.

Then I became a teenager and suddenly my hair became important.  And it also became thin, frizzy, and cantankerous.  Luckily, big hair was in.  Because mine wasn't going to sit still for anyone.

Through each of my pregnancies I thought the Hair Fairy had finally blessed me again.  Thick, luxurious locks cascaded from my head in soft ringlets.  But then the kids popped out and my hair decided that it had a sudden and urgent appointment somewhere down my drain.

A few months ago I read an article extolling the virtues of a vitamin called biotin on the health of hair and nails.  With visions of future Rogaine use in my head, I started using one tablet of the biotin, courtesy of Sam's Club, once an evening.

The effects were nearly immediate - within a week my hair was looking GOOD.  It was getting softer and shinier.  It was withstanding the heat of my styling brush/blow drying combo like some kind of As-Seen-On-TV commercial testimonial.  And within a month I noticed that my hair was growing like mad.  Rather than scheduling a salon appointment every six weeks to cover up the grey my children have gifted me with, I was having to visit with Lady Clairol every three weeks for root control. 

I figured that doubling the cost of my hair dye was a small price to pay.

There was a larger price, though.  I have hair in other places than my head.  And being that my husband is not TDY or deployed at the moment, I have found myself having to shave my legs and armpits every day rather than my usual every third day. 

It took me a while to figure this out - my first clue was when Air Force Guy got in bed with me one night and screamed in pain when I rubbed my leg on him.  It took us a few minutes to daub the bloody tracks off his calves, but at that point I wasn't keeping track of when my last shaving episode took place.

Then there was the day my youngest daughter, who was really trying to be helpful, tried to braid my underarm hair as I was taking a nap in my camouflage tank top.  She told me she was just trying to make it look pretty, but I took the hint.

Obviously, my depilatory habits were not up to the turbo-charged hair-growth caused by biotin tablets.  A quick trip to Sam's Club and I am now up to speed on razors for the next few years.  I figure, it's a small price to pay for hair I can toss in slow motion like I'm on a movie set and Naughty Girls Need Love, Too (woo hoo Samantha Fox!) is playing in the background.

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