Hairfall? Dove to the rescue!

Hey, peeps! I got this:

Dove

in the mail yesterday. It’s Dove’s new Hairfall Rescue Range, and it contains a shampoo, conditioner and the leave-on root intensive treatment. (It’s also supposed to have a deep repair treatment mask, which they didn’t want me to have, I suppose.) Now, my hair started falling like crazy last September, after my 3-month vacation in India. After I got back to Dubai, it was good-bye hair! They would just wave sadly and slither down me in bunches. It swear, it was a conspiracy. Is. They’re still doing it. I don’t know how I have any hair left!

So anyway, I’m about to put Dove’s new product to the ultimate test. The kit says to use it for 2 weeks, and I should notice a visible reduction in my hairfall. The leave-on root intensive treatment is the magic elixir here I guess, because let’s face it, there are a lot of anti-hairfall shampoos and conditioners out there that just don’t work! But Dove claims to have discovered a new breakthrough technology (Trichazole actives) with this product range, so I’m game. Trichazole actives have apparently been scientifically proven to prevent the natural enzymes that work at making our hair fall from our scalps.

Dove is a good brand, and they’ve been hyping this product range like crazy, which makes me think it’s definitely worth trying. But I’ve been disappointed by anti-hairfall products before, so I’m being cautiously optimistic about this. I’ll start using it tomorrow, and will post my results at the end of 2 weeks.

Fingers crossed!

Dove products (including these!) can be found at most major supermarkets, if you want to try it out too.

Toodles :)

Image

Money money money

Over the years, I’ve become more and more certain that we, as mankind, face a huge problem. A problem that we brought upon ourselves. A problem that we took under our wings, nurtured, cared for, and perfected. A problem that now threatens us all. Alright, alright, I’m done with the dramatic movie entrance. Instead, let me ask you a simple question. What does this world revolve around?

a) The sun

b) Love

c) Money

If you picked the sun, you will most definitely miss the whole point of this post, so you might as well stop here and go make yourself a nice cup of tea to sip while pondering the answer to six down.

If you picked love, go away. Seriously, just close the damn window and go pluck daisies or something.

If you picked money, my friends, you’re cordially invited to read further. Or not. Whatever. I’m only writing this ‘cos I’m bored. But wait, I do have a point. The point is, this world revolves around money. You know all those famous quotes by famous people long dead that say “Money cannot buy happiness” or “Love conquers all” or “The chocolate starfish will take over the world”?

Go ahead, Google that last one. Do it. I dare ya.

Anywayyyyy, what I’m saying is… all these quotes? They’re bullshit. Utter and complete bullshit from the mouths of people who were either drunk, stoned or hiding from the men in the white coats and the large butterfly nets. Because let me tell you something, as someone completely sober, sane and pot-free – Money can buy happiness and Money conquers all, including chocolate starfish.

And that is the problem we face today. Money. Cash. Moolah.

Oh don’t get me wrong. Money by itself is quite peaceful and harmless. But place it in the middle of an old grannies’ baking class and you’ve got a fuckin stampede to deal with. The thing is, everybody wants it. Everybody wants money, and not just enough of it to live on, they want as much as they can get their little fingers on. You know this is true. I don’t have to bring out my defensive statements, do I? No? Good. Moving on, then. Obviously, the next question is “Why?” Why do people crave money?

Our society, our whole world, has grown into a money-centric one. No matter how much you claim happiness, love, sunshine, flowers and beavers are all that’s important in the world, if someone offered you a million dollars right now, no strings attached, you wouldn’t turn it down. Hell, you wouldn’t turn down ONE dollar.

OK, so you NEED money. For parking tickets, fines, phone bills, electricity bills and taxes. And women. Or OK, for food, clothing and shelter. So you can have kids, and your kids won’t starve to death, and can go to school to get a good education. And they need a good education so they can get a good job. And they need a job, so they can make money. And they need money for parking tickets, fines, phone bills, electricity bills, taxes, women, food, clothing and shelter. Are you beginning to see a vicious circle here?

To put it shortly, the very purpose of our existence is to make money. Not to love, or teach or grow… all those are secondary. First, you need money. And that, my friends, is the problem.

So my question is, why the fuck is money so important? When did it get so important, and who made it so??? Because dammit, I didn’t get a vote, and I protest!!! Oh and, after reading this, if any of you start feeling resentful towards your money, feel free to send it to me. I’ll gladly suffer on your account.

Growing Up

And so we come to my 4th, is it? poem. Not about Adam, but something I think everyone can relate to. We all miss our childhood and wonder where that innocence went.

Growing Up

I used to believe in goblins and elves
I thought they were there but hid themselves
I used to believe in unicorns
And dragons that had horns
And mystical creatures with wings
Faeries and shimmery things
I used to believe in the fairy tales
That said love would survive the hales
I used to believe that everything that glittered was gold
That all was right with the world
Then one day I opened my eyes
And saw the truth
The world doesn’t really rhyme

©2010 SeenZ

Where: Trivandrum, Kerala, India

When I tell people I’m taking a trip to Kerala, they always get excited. “Wow, you must be so happy!” is the usual reaction. I don’t get it. I’m never excited about going to Kerala. In fact, I kind of dread it. Mostly for 8 reasons…

1. People always ask me about my hair. “Why do you color it??” “Why do you cut it so short??” And the worst part is, you can’t just answer with a simple “Why not?” or “Because I like it that way.” Because they just WON’T GET IT. Their minds are all tuned to one channel. And there, every girl has long, frizzy black hair. Yeah, that’s supposedly a good thing.

2. I never get to wear heels. Let’s face it, no sensible person wears heels in the land of mud and rain (unless they hate said heels and want to see them dead. Which I don’t. I wuv them.)

3. I’m 23 and not married. Enough said.

4. I cannot wear a tank top without being stared at by every-freaking-one. Not in a nice way, no.

5. Power cuts.

6. The roads. The goddamned roads. I mean, I gotta hand it to anyone who can manage to drive a vehicle there. It’s like an obstacle course… drive an inch, avoid a big hole in the road, swerve to avoid hitting that group of girls, swerve back the other way to avoid hitting the beggar sitting on the road and talking on his phone, go over a pile of rocks, look both ways and run the red light, hit a guy on a bike, apologize… OK, you get 10 points. Now imagine a couple of hours of this. It’s great for video game lovers I suppose.

7. The people who come up to you and ask, “Oh do you remember me?”, assume you do, and then proceed to talk to you about other people you’re supposed to remember. And all the while you’re trying to figure out who the hell they are, so you have no idea what to say when they suddenly ask you a question, and then you have to pretend your phone was ringing (“it’s a special tone… only I can hear it”) and edge away.

8. The “Do you never eat anything?” question that you’ll be asked at least once by every person you meet.

But despite all this, every time I get out of the plane in India and take that first deep breath, it feels like home. And I guess that’s what really matters.

For whom the wedding bells toll… part deux

YES! The worst is over. The manhunt is taking its toll on Mom the All-Knowing and Big Sister the Ever-Excited. The former is not so all-knowing now, and the latter can be seen wandering around with an expression of resigned acceptance.

It did take a while… after all, the men on shaadi.com kept increasing like the world rabbit population, and every new one was a source of intense, stalker-like interest. Even the idiots who had profiles like, “hi myself ‘name, i looking sweet beatiful gerl godfearing…”

I mean… seriously??? The only demand I have is the guy be able to speak English without sounding like a character played by Mammootty in an old malayalam movie. (Please God, please!)

What was more annoying though, was the way they treated any guy I talked to. Like, the other day, I ran across an old friend from college and we were catching up on life… and I could feel the eyes of the All-Knowing, Ever-Excited team boring into us… well, him. And sure enough, as soon as we said our goodbyes, they were there with a notepad and pen, demanding to know his life history. All I can say is, thank goodness he isn’t from Kerala.

And so in the end, my continued rejection of anyone they came up with was too much for even the All-Knowing, Ever-Excited team. Now my sister uses her laptop to work on her 3D projects rather than on shaadi.com, and my mom spends most of her time trying to get her grandchild to not pee on the bed.

They’re off my back. Thank you all, for listening, and for the prayers. I’m sure this peace won’t last, but the break feels good, no matter how short it may be.

For whom the wedding bells toll

So I’m finally there. 23 years old. The perfect age, according to Mom the All-Knowing, to start the manhunt. And by manhunt, I mean manhunt. The search for that perfect person to complement you… your “other half”. You must understand, once Mom the All-Knowing decides to start the manhunt, and if she has Big Sister the Ever-Excited as her assistant, there’s no stopping her. You can plead, you can cry, you can throw tantrums, you can threaten to kill a puppy, but nothing will work. She won’t even notice the dead puppy as she hurries from matrimonial site to matrimonial site, filling in the profile of “The Perfect Bride.”

What do you do then? My solution was to say nothing. Let Mom the All-Knowing and her assistant have their fun. Let them go ooh and aah at all the “God-fearing” men on shaadi.com. They’ll call them all up, and soon there will be a parade of 27-year old Roman Catholic Keralite men (preferably from Trivandrum, non-smoker, non-drinker, non-fun) through the house.

See them, talk to them, and send them on their way. Nothing wrong in being polite. Then tell Mom the All-Knowing that they were either:

1) Too short

2) Too tall

3) Too fat

4) Too thin

5) Is a Bryan Adams fan

Under no circumstance must you use the following excuses for rejecting a proposal:

1) Does not drink

2) Does not enjoy clubbing

3) Drives too slow

4) Does not have any tattoos or piercings whatsoever, I mean COME ON!

5) Is not an Adam Lambert fan

Trust me, they don’t work. Even though that last one is a perfectly valid reason. And if she doesn’t buy any of your reasons, it’s perfectly OK to call up the guy, and tell him you:

1) Think “God” is Edward from Twilight. (No no, I hate the guy, this is just an example.)

2) Have lung cancer.

3) Eat only rabbit on Fridays.

That should fix things.

Now, once you’ve rejected about 5-6 guys, the All-Knowing, Ever-Excited team will start getting anxious. They will start lowering their expectations of the men. They will become slightly erratic and frenzied, and drink lots of coffee. They will try to fix you up with random strangers they see on the street.

DO NOT WORRY.

It’s just a stage. It will pass.

Or so I hope.

Please keep me in your thoughts.

A journey to Heaven… through Hell.

Many of my friends know I’m a big fan of author Raymond E Feist. He writes a very long fantasy series, The Riftwar Saga, and I love it. Twenty one books in the series so far, and I’d read twenty. The latest book, “At The Gates Of Darkness”, was released earlier this year, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it!

But I had to.

The first problem was the cost. Books are ridiculously expensive, especially hardbacks. And since this book had only been out for a month, only the hardback was available. At a price of AED 114. Which was just money I couldn’t spare guiltlessly. So I didn’t buy it immediately. But then I finished reading the previous book, and it ended in such a way that I just had to have the next one. Against such enthusiasm, cost became nothing. In a sudden burst of illumination, I realized that AED 114 was after all, not such a huge amount.

Having come to peace with the price, I was free to go buy my book. But of course, that’s when the family gets car troubles.

There’s six drivers in the house, and we have four cars, but now is the time my sister decides to sell her car. Whopee. Which means her husband has to take MY car to work. Which means with my dad needing one car to go to work, and my BIL (brother in law) needing my car to go to work, and my brother crashing his car against everything he sees and it being constantly in the repair shop, I was without a car.

On to the next plan. Get a cab. But cabs are again ridiculously expensive in Dubai, and it just wasn’t worth paying half the price of the book for cab fare for an already expensive book. So I waited. My brother’s car would be back the next day, I was told. So I waited.

And YAY! The car was back! So my BIL takes that car instead, leaving my car free. But then of course, my dad decides HIS car needs to go to the repair shop, so HE takes MY car. @#$&@#^%! “It’ll only take a day,” he tells me. Alright, I waited this long, I can wait one more day.

So I did. The next day, I was all prepared to go, and that’s when the storm warning comes. The radios are going crazy happy with the message: “There’s a storm heading this way, it’ll hit Dubai at 6 PM. DO NOT DRIVE.” Well, fuck. Couldn’t have told me this earlier, huh? HAD to wait till 5:45 PM to warn us of a 6 PM storm? Assholes. But OK, take a deep breath. I’ll wait one more day.

Of course, no damn storm hit at 6 o clock. It was well past 9 when it finally came with its thunder and rain and whatnot. But I had 3 whole hours! When all I needed was 30 minutes to drive down to Magrudys and get the book! ARHGH!

I’d had enough. I was determined to get the book the following day, NO MATTER WHAT. “WHAT” turned out to be continued rain from the storm and heavily flooded roads. No. That wasn’t going to stop me. I was going to read that book today, dammit! So I bravely took the car out, and drove through the flood. In the rain.

It was horrible.

The windows were fogging up and I could hardly see anything for the rain, but I thought of my reward at the end and kept going. My car did protest – as I was making my way slowly through what can only be called a river, it started vibrating and the “problem with battery” sign lit on. But it was still moving, so I kept on. Thankfully, the sign went off after a while, though the vibrating remained. It took me 20 minutes to get to Dubai Festival City, a place that’s about 5 minutes drive away from my house. Anyway, the important point is, I got there safely.

So I went into Magrudys, bought the book (HALLELUJAH! (and I’m not a religious gal)), and got back in my car. I spent hardly 10 minutes in DFC. Now it was time to face the hellish roads again.

If anything, the drive back was worse. The whole area around my house was flooded so badly I didn’t know where the road ended and the sidewalk began. But nothing could dampen my spirits. I had the book! It was sitting safely in the passenger seat next to me, smiling at me and cheering me on. So I smiled back and kept going. I had to turn the car around more than once to find a safer route. Once I turned into a street that was so flooded other people were pushing their cars back after the battery had failed. Thank goodness for them or I would’ve gone in there. (Yes, I know that sounds heartless, but they were big strong men and I’m a weak lil girl. So, tough.) I turned around immediately and went back, found another exit and went home through a completely round-about way. Of course, by the time I got home the car was out of gas, and was still vibrating. But hey, I got my book, didn’t I?

I spent the rest of the day happily reading it. Ah it was heaven. Totally worth it. If I had to do it again, I would. Although, my car won’t start now.

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