And on a lighter note...
....I'd been growing my hair for about eight months by the time Christmas was looming - from a sleek 50's style bob* to a long sultry look**. I decided to treat myself to a decent haircut in order to support the sultry hair decision. I've been wanting to post about this for a while - partly as light relief, and partly because unusually, apparently, for women - I really hate going to the hairdressers. Particularly going to a new hairdressers.
I've been working on a list of five ways in which going to the hairdressers is worse than going to the dentist but I haven't managed to produce a definitive list. It would have included the fact that dentists are better trained, that they don't have mirrors at the dentist and you don't, of course have to tip your dentist. You can visit the dentist every six months and still look good. Whereas the hairdresser involves sitting looking shite with wet hair in a shop in the centre of your home town, a tip is needed for safety in future visits and round here at least they make conversation - another no no at the dentist. I'm actually quite chatty - but its like we speak a different language. They ask me about clubs - I only know about the chocolate kind.
Anyway - she got me from this (back row of top picture) to early Rachel from Friends. Which works. When I've been to the hairdresser. The rest of the time - not so good. But that's OK. I actually quite like looking like the kind of person who's a bit too busy doing interesting things to spend too much time on their hair!
* = Big, Scots, messy and mad looking
** = Enormous, Scots, messy and mad looking
I've been working on a list of five ways in which going to the hairdressers is worse than going to the dentist but I haven't managed to produce a definitive list. It would have included the fact that dentists are better trained, that they don't have mirrors at the dentist and you don't, of course have to tip your dentist. You can visit the dentist every six months and still look good. Whereas the hairdresser involves sitting looking shite with wet hair in a shop in the centre of your home town, a tip is needed for safety in future visits and round here at least they make conversation - another no no at the dentist. I'm actually quite chatty - but its like we speak a different language. They ask me about clubs - I only know about the chocolate kind.
Anyway - she got me from this (back row of top picture) to early Rachel from Friends. Which works. When I've been to the hairdresser. The rest of the time - not so good. But that's OK. I actually quite like looking like the kind of person who's a bit too busy doing interesting things to spend too much time on their hair!
* = Big, Scots, messy and mad looking
** = Enormous, Scots, messy and mad looking
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