Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Who wants to talk about my Hair?

To call me obsessive would be understating it a bit. I'm actually surprised anyone will come within a two meter radius of me because they will all be bombarded with one topic and one topic alone. My Hair.

Let's talk about my hair shall we - if you want to talk about the news, or the eurozone breakdown go somewhere else.. (to be fair I did come up with a song about the economic collapse of the Eurozone.......... "I'm outta time, and all we've only got 10 days to save the Euro" - 4 Minutes, Madonna.)

It all started when I saw a picture of Rachel Bilson's hair, and I thought to myself - that is what I need on my head right now. If I could fly to HWood and scalp Rachel Bilson and wear the top of her head around that would be amazing, unfortunately I had to settle for the next best thing - going to a hairdresser, and anyone who knows me knows that me and hairdressers do not mix.

I'm never happy.......My fringe is shit... that blowdry was rubbish.. she used hair straighteners on my head.....they put layers on my head...

I will sit and stew in hairdresser hatred for days after going to the hairdressers, so you can imagine my anxiety levels when I went to the hairdressers and asked them to make me blonde. Oh god. To be fair it's only supposed to be 50% blonde, but that didn't stop me being 100% terrified.

5 hours later, and I left the hairdresser looking............... almost exactly the same as when I went in.... hmm.. subtle... All the changes were in the middle of my hair?? why?? And whilst everyone told me it looked good - it didn't look good enough to me... so I did the only thing I could do..

I went home and stared at myself in the mirror for 5 hours.

Then I went around to anyone I could find with eyeballs and did a multiple choice questionnaire on the state of my hair.

Does it look good? yes.. Does it look like the picture?? no.

Oh what to do, what to do. I called up the hairdressers to ask them what exactly they envisioned for my hair - and they did their usual Hairdresser Voodoo on me. Just once I would like to be able to walk into a hairdressers probably with some kind of dream catcher around my neck - put the picture in front of their face and go "Why Don't I Look Like This!!!!!!!!!" and don't give me any of your "gradual process" BS.

This is some important shit right here. If the whole world is going down in some Eurozone Double Dip recession, I at least want to have great hair whilst I scrounge around for potatoes and beans, and trade my body for firewood.

1 comment:

Wood said...

Go to Pimps and Pinups. You might think you need a tattoo of a chick with huge tits sitting on an anchor/an extensive vintage wardrobe to be accepted, but you don't and they'll give you the best haircut of your life.