I love to shop for Christmas presents. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a chore, but that moment when you’ve crisscrossed the mall for the third time and finally find the perfect gift for someone special is magical. On occasion, during the arduous process, I’ve been known to treat myself to a little somethin’-somethin’, as a gesture of holiday cheer, and an acknowledgement of hard work and ambulatory exercise.
This Christmas was no different. I was in the checkout line at Anthropologie with my home goods, trying to distract my mind from the ridiculously cute clothes there that don’t come in my size, when I noticed the stocking stuffer rack. I perused the selection of lip glosses and mini eau de perfumes, travel-size candles and hand creams. That’s when I found the box of Tocca hair fragrance. Hair fragrance? What the hell?
I picked the box up for closer inspection. Yes. The imprint read Hair Fragrance. Better known in Tocca-land as Parfum pour les cheveux. In the scent of Cleopatra. I doubt anyone alive has fullproof knowledge as to how Cleopatra actually smelled, but what a great name for a product. Who doesn’t want to smell like the last active ruler of the Ptolemaic Kingdom of Egypt? I thought about buying it. Hair perfume is a novelty I’ve never owned. Then I thought that buying hair perfume would render me an highly indulgent person, and put it back.
The damn checkout line was taking too long, which is when the internal negotiations began.
But I haven’t found my special treat yet!
The last thing in this whole world I need is hair fragrance.
Really? The very last thing. In the whole entire world?
But I deserve it. I want wonderful smelling hair! And if I can’t buy that adorable sweater, the least I can do is have the hair I want.
Into my basket it went.
At home, I unpacked and sorted my treasures. Gifts to be wrapped went to the spare room, hair fragrance to my bathroom counter. That first night, each time I went into the bathroom I eyed the box with suspicion. It was a dubious purchase that I assumed said something negative about my impulse control.
Ah well…C’est la vie, n’est pas?
The next morning, ready to experiment with the best smelling hair this side of the globe, I opened the box. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted with this:
Now, great smelling hair won't make me love myself more, but I smiled over the synchronicity: A message to love myself when I'm working on loving myself! How'd those folks at Tocca know? Was it coincidence? Cosmic encouragement? Either way, I'm open to inspiration from as many unlikely sources as possible. Impulse control be damned.
Side Note: I've been writing posts on this website since April 2015, that's a few months shy of 3 years. Each post is "tagged" with keywords. If you look below, under Categories, you see Tags. The first one on the list is 50 for 50. Each time I use a new word, it is added onto an existing tag list in the site's programming "guts." I reference the list for every post. My tag list consists of an 100 plus words. Choosing tags for this post, I discovered that the word LOVE was not on my list. Not one post with a keyword of love? Look out 2018, 50 for 50, and my intention to practice self-care. Here I come with my Cleopatra hair and a whole lotta love!