The Poof

I was warned about two things in Logan.

Tied-dye shirts and the poof. I have had numerous experiences with both, but this post is dedicated to the poof.

If you don’t know what the poof is you must come visit. Northern Utahans (I just had to look up if that is really what natives of Utah are called, and we are indeed Utahans) love to sport the high volume poof in their hair. The style is simple. You take straight, beautiful hair and ruin it my ratting the under layers, destroying them (and possibly the atmosphere) with hair spray in a can, and then smoothing the top. Thus adding 4 inches of height.

I was talking to my roommates about the poof and Annie said “everybody poofs.” As if that statement alone isn’t funny enough, I couldn’t stop thinking about the book “Everybody Poops,” a childhood classic. I digress.

Anyway, I look around and it’s true. Virtually 80% of the girls up here are sporting the poof proudly. It seems unspoken that there is a competition and the one with the most poof has the most power. Poof=power. An odd equation, but one which the Loganites (I didn’t look up that name. I am choosing to believe they are called Loganites because it sounds fantastic) hold to. Sometimes I sit in class and look around at the poofs, because it’s hard to see the professor due to said poof, and I just think about how much work the poof is. The irony of it all is I spend all morning attempting to rid myself of my natural poof, a product of very curly hair, and am always a little disappointed with the inevitable remaining poof. In my world poof= girls with a inferiority complex whose fake nails are always too short for them and their Aeropostal shirts have been dried one time too many. But alas, there is the small voice inside of me that, for .5 sec thinks, I’m so glad I have natural (or any sort) of volumne in my hair.

I often wonder if the poof is natural though--or if they have invested in the ever classic tv infomercial of the bumpit. This invention, which comes in three sizes, allows for the unnatural look of the poof (sometimes referred to as the bump-hense bumpit) to be done in mere minuets. Thank you inventor--for further delaying the progress of women in Logan.

If you're wondering how a bumpit works I've added instructions.

The point of this post? To pledge to never intentionally poof and to keep a healthy perspective of how ridiculous the poof is. This could be a challenge because I am surrounded by it daily. Will you make the pledge?