Alternative title: Since when did “just a little trim to tidy it up” become synonymous with “lop off most of my locks and turn me into the love child of Duane Dibbley and Mr. Spock?!” … Don’t get me wrong I’m sure the Vulcan Nerve Pinch technique would come in handy when people won’t stop talking at me and every Northerner needs a decent Thermos but shit me, I seriously look like I’ve had an argument with a pair of blunt gardening shears!
“What do you think?” The hairdresser beamed, proud of her creation. I imagine Dr. Frankenstein had felt that same spark of delight too when first setting sight upon his monster’s initial inhale.
I uttered a indecipherable noise … Well, actually, it wasn’t that indecipherable … It was a garbled mix of swear words as my brain tried to establish the best way to rank them in order of significance given the situation.
I’m sure at some point in our lives we will all fall prey to a scissor happy hairdresser and all those dreams of leaving the salon looking like Kim-K with your best “I’m sexy and I know it” swagger on just goes right down the shitter as you sprint home and tear rooms apart searching for the biggest beanie you own.
I am probably the only person in Lancashire hoping that it stays as cold as a witch’s tit just so I can hide the monstrosity under any number of hats, scarves and hoods … It is just until it grows out a bit mind, hotter weather means more excuses for ice-cream and I am all about the mint choc chip!
As it happens I have had various compliments ranging from the nice “ooo how very chic!” to the level headed “I quite like it, and it will grow out if you’re not a fan” to the downright weird “you know you could probably be the object of Vulcan fetishists with that do! You find all sorts of folks online after all” (clearly that was chucked into conversation just in case I decide to quit my job and don a Star Trek uniform … I’m thinking the blue one from Enterprise would best compliment my complexion but hey ho).
I have also had a few … Less nice comments, my favourite being “well you can’t hide that mug now can you”. Well, no, I couldn’t hide my mug before and regardless of whether it looks like a bag of spanners or whether it has the chops of a goddess, my hair do is hardly going to transform it one way or the other.
Anyway … My mindset at the moment is just to own it. Short of me shaving my head (I probably take after my dad which means one very bobbly noggin!) there’s nothing I can really do to fix it (can I just say right here – Take that Anxiety and Depression! I may look like a tool but I am totally owning it … Erm, yeah).
So lovelies … How many of you have had the pleasure of meeting a scissor happy hairdresser while gracing their salon chair? Did you tell them that the do was pants or did you go very British and say “oh it’s beautiful!” through gritted teeth?
** EDIT – Today I drove to work to the news of the attacks in Brussels … Words cannot express the horror and sheer devastation of merely listening to it unfold, let alone what those affected experienced. I love Belgium, it holds a special place in my heart. We’re with you Belgium, stay strong! **