Blame it on a combination of my recent unrest together with the change of season, or blame it on sheer female contrariness, but after a year and a half of growing my lushious locks, I got a bee in my bonnett about needing a bit of an overhaul and chopping some of it off again. Nothing too short and severe you understand, just a nice compromise between short and long - something a bit funky and choppy. So off I go to my hairdresser, armed with my Suicide Girls book, instructed him to look past the naked boobies, fluffy bits and tattoos, focus on the haircuts and we'll all get out alive. To his credit, he hardly batted an eye when I showed him the fringe cut I wanted, displayed on some half naked tattooed creature with her ankles behind her ears...he did however ask to see it again before he was game to actually make a cut, or at least that's why I think he wanted to see it again...
So phase one successfully completed, off I go to the colour specialist. After having been very very dark for a long time now, it was time for a new look and never one to do things by halves, it was my intention to go blonde. Very very blonde. Alas, years of having almost black hair have taken their toll and the colour specialist put a damper on that idea quick smart. Can't be done she said. You WILL end up with orange hair. That was almost enough to send me screaming from the room, but she did redeem herself and suggest I could make a start by getting lots and lots of blondie streaks and we could build on that over time. For once I erred on the side of caution and listened to her advice.
So I'm all foiled up (comforting to know neither the aliens nor the americans could read my thoughts whilst this process was taking place - tin foil is for more than just wrapping the Sunday roast in ya know...) and allocated my own egg timer that sits on a colour coded frisby, so as not to confuse me with any other timer or frisbee... I'm then relegated to the "lounge" area to "cook" along with the other girlies enduring a similar process. I have to say, it was all very social and chatty in there - so much better than being left to incubate alone in your chair with last months (painfully dull) Woman's Day. I was almost disappointed when my egg timer finally went off and I had to wrench myself away from my nearest neighbours inside knowledge of the Tony Veitch affair...but my eagerness to get a gander at my new look overcomes my nosy parker-ness and off I go to be de-foiled. The moment of truth arrives. The foils are off and thank the gods, I'm happy enough not to want to kill anyone (a rear thing for me during a visit to the hair salon, let me tell you). After a brief scuffle with a platnium blonde in the drying bay over the last remaining hairdryer, my night is over and I'm on my way home sufficiently "made over". Crikey, I'm almost feeling a bit snazzy. Now I've just gotta loose those 10 kilos and the transformation will be complete...anyone know a where you can get cheap lipo without going to Thailand??
No comments:
Post a Comment