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Cutting Remarks |
Here we go again!
I've bitten my nails to the quick, fiddled with my necklace until it snapped
and a red sweat rash is creeping up my neck. I've tried yoga, meditation
and drinking the odd glass of wine or three. I've been up doing the ironing
at four in the morning and taken to watching the shopping channel til
daybreak (Sad!) A bad attack of nerves? You bet! Taking an important exam?
Not quite! Getting married? Not that I know of!
No, I'm afraid it's
far more serious than that. I'm getting my hair cut! Correction - I'm
'thinking' of getting my hair cut. Actually cut. With scissors.
Real scissors this time, by a real hairdresser.(At least she say's she's
a real hairdresser) Anyway her name's Michelle and hairdressers are always
called Michelle, everyone knows that. You remember Shelly, my very patient
and long suffering stylist? She's the one who rescued me from the green
hair disasters and Kevin Keegan home perms over the last fifteen years.
She styles all my family's hair, poor girl, and she's the only hairdresser
ever to keep my fidgety child still long enough to crop his thatch. (Actually
she hit him round the head with a paddle brush but what the heck?) She
listens patiently to my mothers accounts of arthritis and deafness and
has steadfastly tried to bully my sister into growing her hair just that
little bit more than an inch all over. She can dress any hair-man, woman
and child from a simple bob to an elaborate up-do. But I do always detect
that note of trepidation when I ring for an appointment. In fact, she's
taken to coming to the house so I don't put her other clients off!
You see we go through
this performance every time I make this life-shattering decision . To
cut or not to cut- that is the question. After the self-administered curl-cutting
ceremony the other week (Remember?) I have to admit that the urge to snip
bits off is back. I wake up every day with the strange desire to 'have-a-go'
and that's when I know it's time to visit either my stylist or a therapist
. Actually, I think that they're one and the same thing. I know what the
trouble is. It's big birthday time again and as the figures increase I
feel that awful need women get to 'reinvent' themselves. Well, maybe 'reinvent'
is rather too dramatic for mousey me but I do need some fine-tuning.
I have two main problems
though. Firstly, although I'd love a shorter more manageable style, will
I really like it? And secondly, will he like it? Yes him. You see my main
barrier to the new me is the old him. My other half (bless his little
mismatched socks) is one of those blokes who like their women stuck in
a time-warp (Like them!). You know, Farah Fawcett flicks, Pamela Anderson
boobs and hot pink lipstick. Well unfortunately I don't want the first,
haven't a hope in hell for the second, and pink lipstick? It's just not
me , as they say. I'm definately more akin to Ally McBeal than Melinda
Messenger and maybe that's my fear ( and his!). Will I look like a boy
with short hair? Admittedly, I'm more at home in jeans than lilac Lycra
and the high heels haven't seen the light of day in years. Perhaps my
long, curly mop is my femininity?
It's funny though,
short hair on TV celebs doesn't seem to bother his lordship. When I recently
pointed out Demi Moore's extremely short haircut his only comment was
"Ah yes but of course she's got the face to carry it off!".
Needless to say I did not cook tea that night and accidentally managed
to drop his favourite white shirt into the washing up water.
Well Demi Moore I'm
certainly not and maybe I won't have all my hair cut off but I'm definately
trimming this fringe tomorrow! (And maybe I'll reshape his eyebrows while
he's asleep!)
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