A few weeks ago, I got my first real blowout from Glam Squad NYC and, after seeing that my damaged, crispy hair could turn into a silky flowing mane of prettiness, finally understood why people shell out money for professional blowouts for special events or job interviews. But writer Sandra Ballentine‘s piece on her struggle — yes, struggle — to quit getting blowouts for W Magazine is just…it’s too much, you guys.

In it, Ballentine details how she started getting blowouts 20 years ago right before her 10-year high school reunion. After a few more blowouts prior to events, she was completely hooked. And who wouldn’t be? It’s so easy to have other people wash and dry your hair. It’s convenient — well, kind of, except when you consider the travel time, appointment length and money aspects. So, everything.

The whole piece reeks of “first world problem” syndrome to a point I cannot handle. I’m all about silly pieces, particularly ones concerning beauty, but good god…this article. Here are its worst lines, accompanied by my reactions (and, naturally, their GIF counterparts).

1. Blowouts are a slippery slope.

A fix every month increased to one a fortnight, and pretty soon, nary a week went by without a couple of trips to the salon.

I smell a story arc…

Jesse Pinkman GIF

Via Tumblr.

2. It caused so many problems!

Things got so bad that I avoided traveling to cities where I didn’t have a hair connection. But inevitably, all the pulling, pressing, and crisping took a toll on my tresses—not to mention my bank account. At upwards of $100 a hit, my habit was adding up. It was time for an intervention.

Oh, man. You couldn’t even take vacations or trips to places that didn’t offer you the correct blowout? Life is hard.

Also, for the record, most amazing blowouts from places like Dry Bar and Blow cost $40  – $50. To have Glam Squad, the ones who did my hair, come to your office to do your hair, it’s $50. Obviously, it’s still expensive and it’s not something that is feasibly for most people to do regularly, if at all, but $100 a pop? Good gracious. I don’t think I could justify $300 a week to avoid showering myself.

3. Friends don’t let friends not wash themselves.

One morning, [a visiting W editor friend] looked up from his scrambled eggs and asked, with deceptive nonchalance, why there wasn’t any shampoo in the house. “I don’t wash my own hair, unless I’m at some kind of boot camp or on safari,” I replied blithely, thinking that was the end of it.


4. The assignment.

To write the piece, [the editor friend] said, I would have to abstain from dryers, flat irons, hot rollers, and curling irons for three months—the salon-a-holics equivalent of checking into Promises.

Promises, for those who don’t know, is an addiction center for people who are potentially dying of their addictions. You are not addicted. You are vain. Those are different things. But here:



5. But it’s just too hard.

I’d rather be sent to Southeast Asia to investigate a new beauty botanical found only in python nests, I told him.

Not Southeast Asia! There are buildings there that don’t even have servants!

Who will chew up my food and split it into my mouth for me? My teeth haven’t been used in two decades! I can’t do this anymore.

6. ANIMALS don’t even put up with this shit.

Seriously, even my two Bengal cats get regular blowouts.

I can’t even tell if this was sarcasm. Please, god, let this be sarcasm.

7. But all tragedies have upsides, right?

But in the end, I agreed. Why not simultaneously save my split ends and save up for a beach house?

I just cannot.

troy rich

8. The decision to triumph over adversity.

No one believed I could do it, which is probably what finally propelled me into action.


9. At least it wasn’t a sitcom extra?

The first time I lathered up and air-dried, I looked like an extra from Game of Thrones.

I know a king who might take issue with this statement.

joffrey GIF

10. Fortunately, she’s getting tips!

Jamie Levine, of the Italian haircare company Davines, gave me an interesting tip. “Wait until your hair air-dries, and take a cab to work with the windows rolled down.”

Yes, take a cab to work, because that will save you tons of money every day. How incredibly practical.

thumbs up gif

11. There were some “mishaps.”

There were some mishaps. I was forced to attend an aunt’s funeral with a wet-look ponytail (more like a rat tail) after overdosing on Rahua Elixir, an otherwise lovely product.

You overdosed on a $175 product? Really? Really?

somethings GIF

12. ???

I gouged my cheek with a thumbnail after slipping on some shampoo in the shower.

How do you not know how to shower?

13. Blowouts are also apparently like plastic surgery.

And when an ex-boyfriend I ran into at Indochine didn’t recognize me, I vowed never to go au naturel in the city again.

Seriously? You didn’t have the same face?

No and apparently, nobody else does, either.

14. But at least she learned a lesson!

I do, of course, miss my salon “family” from time to time, but I’m convinced that our separation is making my hair stronger and thicker every day…But that’s okay, because I know my bulging cabinet of follicular potions will be there for me when the going gets rough (or frizzy). And, once my three months are up, I can always go back to those biweekly blowouts—not because I have to, but because I want to.

Finally! The journey is almost done! Ah, what a brave, brave lady with seemingly no concept of reality.

It would be one thing if her whole piece came off as tongue-in-cheek, but it just sort of resembled the journal entry of what I assume Regina George would sound like as an adult woman who had never met Tina Fey’s character.

Obviously, she can do whatever she wants with her money, but by publishing this story on the Internet, she opened herself up to criticism (and ridicule). Who knows? Perhaps I am just a jealous 23-year-old blogger! In all likelihood, that is the case. What saddens me is that I remember her story called “In Defense of the Cat Lady,” which I loved, being an obsessive cat lady myself (albeit one who does not believe in blowdrying my own). Unfortunately, I could not stop myself from this one.