Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Bad hair day
No it's not falling out. I keep giving it a tug and nothing comes away and now and then I shake my head and just get the odd strand floating off with all of the dust motes showing up in this lovely winter sunshine we are having. Nonetheless it's a bad hair day, mainly because I haven't had it cut since before I went to Dresden and that was last year! For decades now I have been going for the gamine look, well on my head anyway the rest of me hardly falls into the elfin category. If I leave it longer than six or seven weeks, it turns into the gammon not the gamine look, flat, flabby and in need of a pineapple to perk it up. I know I have time on my hands these days and I could try blowdriers and crimpers, but I learnt long ago that I had no skill and was perhaps put off by the grips and rollers and, if I recall, something called a razor cut that my Mom tried to bring into force to persuade a bit of style into my hair when I was a girl. These days, if it can't be sorted by a quick run through with the fingers after a nice soaky bath it's no good to me. I don't even own a comb.
So I have just booked a cut for Thursday and it will be a race to see who gets there first the chemo or the hairdresser. I will get Stuart, hairdresser not husband, to cut it as short as he dares and not worry that it will cost me half of our day's being on a pension allowance and it might be a waste. If I dare I may even go blond or bright pink because after all it won't last for ever.