Total Bathroom Domination

You’re never at a loss for shampoo when you have teenage daughters. And I have three.

All around the rim of the bathtub, on the racks under the shower nozzle, in the soaptray, balanced precariously one atop the other . . . bottles of all shapes, sizes, colours and promises. One for greasy hair, another for dry hair, some with conditioner, others without. Volumizing, dandruff-destroying, poof-proof (hmmm... I know some people who would find this term offensive), body building, strengthening, repairing, anti-tangle . . . . . .

But very few products for “normal” hair, I’ve noticed. Teenage girls always have dysfunctional hair, hence the veritable pharmacopoeia of tonsorial products. And it’s a well-known fact that teenage girls shampoo their hair 3.75 times a day on average, hence the high percentage of these containers inverted, draining the last nanolitre of shampoo to where it can be expelled after squeezing and shaking it for half a hour.

I have been banished to the upstairs bathroom, which is fine with me. No one else wanted to use it, and for a while I was able to store my one can of shaving cream, razor, toothbrush and dental floss with plenty of room to spare. But lately I’ve noticed some cosmetic creepage making forays into my private lair. At first it was just a single eyeliner pencil, then a couple of strange hair brushes, weird-looking razors in the latest colours, and nail polish. By this morning, my entire bathroom was under the occupying forces of estrogen-saturated teenage girls, and my meager toiletries banished to the lowest shelf under the sink – you know, the space behind the trap, in the shadow, where the drain drips.

But I still have something atop the head that needs shampooing, so I shouldn’t complain too much or too loudly.