Have you ever made a decision in the heat of an emotionally unstable episode? Have you ever come to your senses just that little bit too late? Have you ever learned a lesson only to find yourself learning it all over again?
I should have known better, especially given that the black dye I put through my hair last time I was feeling a little techy was still making me look like a wanna-be goth piece of mutton dressed as an angry lamb. But nooooooooo.
I only came to my senses when the monstrous girl with pink and black hair boofed up the back of my head, bangles a-clanging over wildly tattooed arms, proclaiming that “OMG your hair just like stands up naturally and I have to tease the crap out of mine to do that so I’m totally not liking you right now.”
“Dear God what have I done?” my inner voice cried as I surveyed the 6 years of hair growth that my son was making ‘hair castles’ out of.
“Mummy take off all her hair!” he smiled as he rolled in the off-cuts.
I inspected the damage. And damage was the right term. The right side was a straight cut over the ear while the left was shaped and feathered. The right fringe was in my eye while the left stopped half-way down my forehead. And the top/back made me look like one of the Golden Girls.
“Um, is it just me or is this uneven?” I asked politely.
“Hmmmm? Oh yeah. Wow. OK…”
I knew how Samson felt in that instant. All my courage lay strewn across the salon floor and the Little Lion was throwing it like confetti. I had gone in with visions of Natalie Portman and Emma Watson, but I was left with ‘Nanna wants to be a boy’.
So when she evened the ears and fringe out, I didn’t bother to comment of the boof. I humbly paid my money, went home, had lunch, put the kids to bed, showered and booked an appointment at another salon for a ‘fix me up now or I will die’.
The girl at the second salon needed no guidance.
“So you want something a little less ‘grandma’ and a little more ‘stylish’?” and I just cringed.
She did her best. My hair just isn’t made for Natalie Portman, besides, my eyes are too close together and my shoulders are too big anyway. I was often mistaken for a boy in my youth, so I don’t know what I was thinking. The end result is “1980s Angry Rocker on suburban housewife who wanted to look like a movie star.” I guess I could do worse, and if I am still unable to look in the mirror without jumping back in fright next month, I’ll just buzz cut it and start again.
Damned shame about all those long, soft locks though…