I went to the hairdresser today. This means that my day was very long indeed. It also means that I’ve come to the end of the day looking absolutely beautiful. Okay, so my hair looks beautiful [and will right up until I touch it], no fuck it, I look fucking smashing. With a big fuck you to all who disagree.
I always find the hairdresser an absolutely uninteresting and exhausting business. Well, I like watching them work – it can be quite fascinating. The having to chit chat with the hairdresser kind of stinks and listening to the hairdresser comment on what a lot of hair I have is rather yawn making. I realise that I have rather a lot of hair. I’ve always had rather a lot of hair and I’ve yet to meet the hairdresser who didn’t feel the need to comment on it as they hacked and slashed at my locks. I very nearly broke my hairdresser today. First with the four hundred foils [half-head to the uninitiated] in three colours. That took rather a lot of time. Sitting and waiting for them to cook took rather a lot of time too. Time passes slow when you have a roll of foil messed up in your hair. The washing elicited another comment on what a lot of hair I had and forced some reply about how she, at least, didn’t have to do it all the time. She was surprisingly sympathetic which is how I knew that she wasn’t just bitching. The whole cutting thing wasn’t too bad for either of us, actually I think we both felt perverse joy at watching all those dead cells snip snip to the floor. The blow dry nearly made her cry. It takes about half an hour to blow dry my hair even when half of it has been removed. Correction, it takes about half an hour for someone else to blow dry my hair, I’ve long since given up the notion as a bad one. She was holding her arms in a strange manner after that and felt the need to flex them rather a lot. More hacking at this point in a not entirely vain attempt to make it less bouffy and just less. More hacking and more commentary about what a lot of hair I have. Finally, and with lashings of relief on both sides, she finishes and we have a really rather ravishing me with significantly less hair. Oh joy of joys and great relief. My head feels all light and it has nothing to do with the emptiness of my skull. Need I mention the banter about my hair that this great ending inspired? Thought not.
I have never seen anyone look more relieved to hand back my credit card and see my arse as I walked out the door.
There goes another three hours of my life.
21 comments:
I used to know nailpolish before she was famous
So did I, heh.
What a bloody effort for a haircut! On the rare occasion I actually NEED to have my hair cut (it takes forever to grow), I get, 'wow, your hair is so thick, but it's very thin.' OR to summarise that in a less mutated way, 'You have very Asian hair.'
Congratu-fucking-lations, you douche. That's because I am.
PS. Are you going to twirl for me when I get in on Saturday? Or at least a flick.
PS2. Pooman cornered me at work again on Saturday, talking to Rosanna. Came out of nowhere, and after a REALLY awkward couple of minutes, Rosanna disappeared, too! Argh! I think I actually left mid-sentence talking to him, oop.
Fight! Fight!
I promise you a twirl or something, Bourbs. Mind you, by the time you see my new do it'll be all fucked with my 'attempts' at styling. The bleached one, Ms Hairdresser 1967, complianmented me - not is that good or is that bad..?
So sorry bout the poo - he really should just be shot or something. How very rude of Rosanna!
I love it when people say to me I have thick hair (because it's quite the opposite) and then when I point out my hair is actually thin, people have commented "but you have a lot of it." WTF?
If you haircut makes you feel good that's good. Did you hairdresser have nice hands and give you a funky head massage?
I like it rough.
A shampoo, that is. I love it when my hairdresser wrangles my head damn near out of its socket.
Nothing relaxes me more. Oh man, I could SO go a head massage.
Your blog has become pamper central, Nails. Except it was Alcomohol-ville on Monday. Whoop!
First nail polish, then hair - OH MY GOD, I'M TURNING INTO A GIRL! - any moment I'll start growing those breasts...
I've always considered vodka to be a kind of pampering for my liver...And ranting, well, that's a necessity really, keeps one sane that kind of thing.
I didn't get much of a massage - just when she was 'washing' it. Probably good or things could have gotten embarrassing.
I think I've scared off the boys that sometimes read this. My next post had better be macho - perhaps something on shoes..? No, right, shoes are girly. Um. Ah. Um. What's a boy topic again?
Its kinda four if you include the bits that aren't dyed and the other half of my head :)
So much of what they do looks so random [I'll just thin it out. snipsnipsnip] but it works. Fascinating!
I reckon it's art. Shit, anyone who can wrangle this mane deserves
infinite praise, but to make it look good too. Bonus. lol
The answer to not only saving money AND creating more drinking time is to do what I do...Buy some clippers, shave your head yourself and get pissed! The amount of money I've saved over the years in haircuts is simply astonishing...mind you though all the extra bundy I drink becuase of this will probably result in me needing a liver transplant...
Ah,the awkward hairdresser chit chat. How quickly my friendly patter evaporates into silently staring at my reflection, realising how useless I am at small talk. This could be why I haven't had a trim in 6 months.
So, guess there's at least one bloke still reading. Well, me and arnoldnelson. He always seems to have really interesting things to say..
you wouldn't possibly, only ever so slightly, really just perhaps ... be... stoned?
Whoa! I actually kinda like random posts about everyday life, no-adventure is the new adventure! I don't reckon there is any better way to learn about someone than to hear their everyday stories as opposed to just hearing about the big things.
I was somewhat disappointed there was no mention of motorbikes or ninja swords in the entire post though.
I thought the title was a dead giveaway but I guess if you're a pedantic fucktard it may have been problematic. Oh well.
Feel free to fuck off and never return 'whut?'.
Many thanks Rach and Adam.
Best. Retort. Ever!
Being a hairdresser is a pretty sucky job from what I hear. It's just a lot of standing around and cutting hair.
Hey - I wonder if Con's does women? They'd see to you nice and quickly, and you'd get to watch everyone at the bus stop while you were waiting for the foils.
Hmmmm, there's a thought, have a man do it. They have such lovely strong arms.
I don't think I'd want half of Enmore seeing my hair all naked like that. How embarrassing.
I hate getting mine done too. Great post.
i stopped going. too much of a hastle. Now, just give me the bottle, 40 mins and a vodka tonic and i'm set to go.
Ha ha, guess what I saw this morning as I awaited the bus, Mark? A woman walking into Con's to get her hair done, okay, so it might have been for a shave...
I don't mind colouring my own hair, themar, but, though I've always wanted to do it, I don't think me cutting it would be good. Oh second thoughts, multi-colouring my hair, by myself, could really suck...
Many thanks, Honey - wouldn't it be lovely if one could sleep through the process?
Poor Muffin!!
That is the worst! I'm always way totally traumatised after "the visit".
Post a Comment