I Kissed Blowdrying Goodbye


Heather Caliri -Gleeful Simplicity4

My daughter was a newborn when I stopped blowdrying my hair.

At the time, I didn’t think of it as a lifestyle choice. I struggled to bathe, much less primp. After every precious shower, I stared at that hairdryer with laser volcano eyes.

You’re stealing precious minutes of my life, I fumed.

It did not defend itself.

When I realized it was weird to resent a personal appliance, I put it in a drawer and I didn’t get it out again.

My oldest got older. I had another baby. That one got older. My hair’s been air-drying for a decade; I have no plans to do otherwise.

Can I confess something? Not using a blowdryer fills me with a ridiculous amount of glee. It takes all of five minutes to get my hair dry, but not bothering feels amazing. Partially, it feels like a feminist victory: I have decided my hair is fine as-is, no beauty products, effort, or angst necessary. Part of it is gratitude for my privilege: my hair is really easy to care for.

But the biggest victory is this:  I don’t enjoy daily beauty regimens. Once in a while is fun, but every day? I’d rather spend my time reading, or playing Angry Birds or writing or cooking or eating or—well, pretty much anything.

Every day I don’t blowdry my hair, it feels like saying yes to all the stuff I actually like.

Abandoning my blowdryer is such a small thing, really. A symbolic victory more than an actual time-saver. The amount of joy I get out of cutting the cord is completely out of proportion with the obvious payoff. Five minutes a day: whoop-de-do.

Why does it make me feel giddy, then?

Because the payoff isn’t really about time. It’s about simplicity. And intention. And living my life on purpose.

Can I be honest? Simplicity isn’t simple for me. My default mode is to be stingy. I have just a few tiny issues around money and privilege. I find it easy to give up things—to cull and do without, to say no and not now.

But I don’t want to be stingy with my life. I want a spacious, joyful life, not a cramped, fearful one.

So I am often suspicious of my own thirst to keep things simple. Is it about guilt? About smallness? Or is it really a happy “yes” disguised as a “no-thank-you?”

Having kids has clarified things. My kids call me on it when I say no too freely. Or, at the very least, I see my stinginess reflected in resentful eyes at the dinner table.

But I also see the results of too much just as clearly. Too many activities, and my kids are cranky. Too much stuff and they struggle to keep it tidy. Too much spending and we’re all overwhelmed.

What I’m seeing about true simplicity, gracious simplicity, simplicity that gives me glee, is that it’s not really about saying no—whether to hairdryers or Lego sets or spending money. And it’s not really about saying yes, either.

It’s about thinking about what brings me joy. Then, it’s about saying yes to that one thing, and no to everything else.

The thinking part is the most important part—moreso than saying yes or no. I have to know myself—what I want, what I value, what gives me joy. Stinginess and gluttony are simply thoughtless yeses and noes.

I want all my choices to fill me with as much glee as that decision to abandon my hairdryer does.

And to do that, I have to know myself, trust my gut, and choose wisely for me and my family, not for anyone else.

My choices should really only work for me. My friend Alia loves doing her makeup; for her to abandon her daily beauty regimen would be stingy and joyless. My friend Melissa doesn’t really enjoy meal planning; she finds freedom when she radically simplifies the process. I, however, get so much joy out of cooking and eating that the same choice would grieve me.

There’s no one right choice. There’s no one-size-fits-all yes or no. There’s only searching out enjoyment and values and self-care and prioritizing accordingly.

The funny thing about saying yes and no on purpose is that the dividends are far out of proportion to the choice. Every day I go to bed with wet hair, I feel grateful. I feel like I’m taking care of myself. I laugh in the morning when I see my ridiculous bed head, comb some water through it, and smile at my reflection.

I have quite literally done nothing, but that nothing is a victory. Because regardless of what I look like, I feel like I really know myself, and have given myself the biggest gift possible: a life lived on purpose.

Heather Caliri
Heather Caliri is a writer from San Diego who loves British murder mysteries, advice columns, and hot breakfasts. She uses tiny, joyful yeses to free herself from anxiety. Tired of anxiety controlling your life? Try her mini-course, "Five Tiny Ideas for Managing Anxiety," for free here.
Heather Caliri
Heather Caliri


  1. A spacious life … this resonates with me. Love it. I don’t want a cramped life, either. I want room to move around and breathe deeply.


  2. Great post that helps us think about what brings each of us joy. Saying yes to the important and no to the unimportant. I need this daily reminder.

  3. I stopped blowdrying my hair when my first was born, and haven’t looked back, either! Sometimes I wonder if I should be modeling How To Care For Oneself to my daughters (I don’t really wear makeup, either…) but perhaps embracing my own self is just as important? Love that ultimately, it’s the choices that work for me. Thanks for this encouragement!

    • I think this is a great question, Annie–I feel that push sometimes too. I guess there are all kinds of ways to take care of yourself. My sister loves manicures; they aren’t really my cup of tea. “Taking care of myself” looks different for her and I. And I think there are all these things we’re told as women SHOULD nurture us, but if they don’t, they don’t. I think however you feel most yourself is the way we should be looking to our daughters. (And ditto on the makeup 🙂

  4. Simple is not simple for me either but it is what I long for as well. Uncluttered moments are life giving to me and it starts with having an uncluttered schedule and house. I’m still learning just how to flesh this out day to day. It’s good to know others that resonate with simplicity as well.

  5. My favorite thing about this post: your generosity and grace in leaving room for everyone to say no to different things. I haven’t touched a blow dryer for at least a decade, but I would not feel judged if that routine gave me joy.

    • Good 🙂 Very over the mommy-or-any-other-kind-of-wars that divide us. Simplicity is all about not judging, too, methinks 🙂 Though glad to meet another non-blow-drier. 🙂


  1. […] the ten years since my oldest was born, I stopped wearing perfume, blow-drying my hair, buying clothes I had to iron, reading fashion magazines, or wearing heels. And two years ago, when […]

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